When Crusher lived in Denver, he was most happy one morning to read that the mayor's car had been destroyed by a kamikzae squirrel. See, this self-sacrificing fantastic bastard (the squirrel, not then-mayor Wellington Webb, who is merely a bastard) had gotten inside the car while it was deep in the bowels of a parking garage. And then gnawed through a key wire in the car's electrical system, causing some kind of mega-explosion that blew out everything. And Crusher saw that it was very good. Sure, the squirrel also blew itself up, but an entire expensive car went along with it.
Turns out that this squirrel is only one soldier in a very large, very powerful squirrel army. And Crusher sees that it is very good.
Squirrels: Nature's Anarchists.
And occasionally also drunken little fuckers:
About Crusher
- Crusher
- Look, Crusher is a crusher. Crusher crushes things. If Crusher crushes something of yours, don't take it personally. It's just what Crusher does. Unless Crusher says, "Crusher is crushing this," at which point Crusher will brandish or point to or lift an eyebrow at or otherwise indicate what Crusher is referring to, "precisely and only because it is yours." Then you should take the fact of Crusher crushing something of yours (at least one thing, but possibly more) personally.
Crusher's Counter. It Counts Things While Crusher Crushes Things.
See? Crusher Told You About Crusher's Crushings
See? You Should Not Doubt Crusher On These Things
(Novelist/Tool with a pipe)
1 comment:
I hate squirrels. But I love the drunk squirrel. So much, in fact, I'm stealing it for my blog.
The Denver squirrel was kind of cool.
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