No band-aid big enough

Thump

A curious word, an ominous sound.

Thump

A tire swerved, a lifeless mound.

It's not hard to predict a "winner" in a match between a ponderous car tire and a frazzled rodent. Yet I'm still a little puzzled at how I, Rahni (friend-to-nature-couldn't-even-kill-a-mosquito-buzzing-in-the-house-last-night-so-opted-to-take-refuge-under-my-sheets-to-prevent-a-"sleeper"-hit), managed to commit murder last Friday. Perhaps I could blame my niece, Madison? She was in the car with me. Alas, no--she did not distract and thus to charge her with the fault would be considered churlish by some. By all?

As I pulled out of the Quiznos' parking lot, he (she?) darted to the shoulder of the road. It really shouldn't have happened--the squirrel froze and I jerked the wheel. Perhaps the car seemed farther away after the pull to the left? Maybe he just freaked? Historically, I've always instinctively swerved away from homicidal opportunities. But I must admit, my hasty tug at the wheel was tempered by that cheeky Geico commercial where the squirrels congratulate each other on running another car off the road. There! I said it. I didn't swerve quite as much as I had first intended! In fact, I was actually thinking something like Hey, I'll try and get out of the way, but you're not making me have an accident, you little conniver! He did escape three out of the four tires, though. Too bad about the right rear one sneaking up on him. I guess I can expect all of squirreldom to be against me and mine from now on.

Bring it.