Punks on the Loose

Go ahead and accuse me of anthropomorphism-

I swear that the squirrels are messing with me

I can hear nefarious sniggers within their chattering

I can see the roguish gleam in their eyes

From their treetop hideaways, they taunt,

springing to and fro on my roof,

 misbehaving children jumping on a mattress

Their little nails clatter away as they scurry,

tormenting both me and my beleaguered dogs

Their brash vandalism astounds me

After devouring every last bird seed

and chugging the hummingbird nectar,

they destroy the feeders,

leaving them in bent, broken, shreds,

adorned with tooth markings, squirrel graffitti

Impudent, little punks!

Tbey play chicken as I drive down the street,

presumptuously dashing in front of my wheels,

daring me

I daydream revenge for a moment

but then slam on the brakes,

sending the contents of grocery bags and my coffee

flying through the car's interior,

spilling everywhere

I know that the squirrels are clutching their bellies,

laughing and high fiving,

snickering, "Dude, did you see that?!!"

 source

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Open Link Monday