Goblins

I heard a ruckus up in the trees this afternoon and looked up and saw a big crow lift up and fly away with a baby squirrel in his claws; judging by the fact that there was a frantic squirrel sprinting down the branch toward the ascending crow.

I watched as the crow dropped the baby squirrel not 50 feet away and circled up and landed in a tree above it, screeching. I looked back lost the squirrel. It’s the squirrel I really wanted to see. Despite the fact we don’t need any more squirrels around here, ever. Those little bastards cost me serious money at my old house in the city. But this, no, this is a mama losing her baby to a flying black goblin. No, that sweet mama squirrel’s gonna be fucked up in the head.

Maybe there’s a COVID-19 fund set up for squirrels that lose their babies to flying black goblins, screeching, creepy, clever flying black goblins.