At first I thought I'd lock this thread down. Next I figured I would have Sheetswannabe banned from the site. I've decided that neither option is worth it because after reading this and typing what was a wicked response, I looked over my right shoulder and saw not Dusty (whom is now departed) but his successor, Lou. Lou was just outside the window staring me down. Daring me to hit the "add post" button. I was almost there, my hand on the mouse, the cursor right there, but he was still staring at me. I knew not to send the original message into cyber land because he was pumping his little left fist at me while smoke from his Cigarette clouded his face. He appeared to be glaring through a fog. A fog of misery and horror. During our stare down I realized that Lou was not in a tree, not on a roof, not on a phone line. He was in fact, hovering in mid air. He just hung there like an infield pop-up. The thing that made the situation odd was not his squirrel cigarette. Not his David Blaine-like levitation trick (I live on the second floor by the way) not his fist pumping, but the photo he produced. He pulled a Polaroid out of his back pocket. It was a picture of the neighbor's parakeet. Lou showed me the photo so I knew who it was and then he made a "cutting" action across his throat using his left paw. The paw was some how deformed. It had 6 fingers, one of which kept flipping me off. Lou made it clear that if I somehow affected Sheetswannabe that the little parakeet named Larry would be offed in some god forsaken way. Maybe a peanut bomb, perhaps a Mack truck driven by a lunatic pigeon wearing a Metallica shirt would accidentally roll over his cage. What ever the outcome, it would not be pretty. I'd then have to face a life of parakeet hauntings. Trust me. You don't want a parakeet haunting you. I know a guy in Alabama who is going through it. Lou is still "hanging out" beside my window but that's ok, I called the cops on him again. The cops know my address. They said they would be right over and I was to remain home. It was suggested I "pack a suitcase for a little trip". Perhaps they are taking me to a safe house. Perhaps, and more likely, they will be taking me to a federal agency where the men in white coats give you white M&M's while you reveal the communist plots launched by the squirrel population in my back yard. I've met those agents before and I think they are going to offer me a job next time I see them. Perhaps it'll be my mission to travel the city's parks taking notes on rodent activities. Scheming, always scheming. Maybe the feds will use me as a plant within the squirrel Mafia's inner circle. I could dress like a plant. I know I could. Green pants, green shirt with a yellow collar, a sunrise colored wool knit cap and some gloves? I could pull it off. I just need to find a clay pot large enough for me to stand in. I'm going to ask at the garden center down the street. They enjoy my company so much and treat me so well that the managers walk along with me and shield me from other customers while I shop for necessities like gopher gunk, lawn guns, bullets that can be operated my remote control, you know, crime fighter stuff. I best get going now. Someone's knocking on the door. It's probably the federal agency and the local cops even though they are announcing themselves as orderlies for "Belleview Psychiatric" I know the score. I'm down. I'll play it their way for National Security's sake. Oh and by the way- I think I'll ask them to stop by -your house- sheetswannabe. I'd imagine we'd like to have a word with you. You've clearly aligned yourself with the evil side of things and it's time for a bit of questioning. You may want to bring along an extra pair of socks. (though you won't need them because torture rarely requires proper foot hygiene. I hope nobody can hear me saying this and I'm glad I'm not typing it to warn you. I think putting you into a phone booth with two muskrats and then switching out brains is a suitable solution. I'd best not make an inclination of this though or sheetswannabe will know I"m after him) Bye for now. I need to answer the door and put on one of those neat-o jackets they give ya for the ride downtown.