By Me and Bobby McGee
Last True American Family Man and
Donnie Michael Hoy
Last True American Tiger Woods Fan
For those who have not heard the completely factual rumors regarding the squirrels that scatter the campus, yes, the squirrels at the College are filled from their tiny skull to their bushy tails with cold, hard cash.
After smashing a few, it has been confirmed that each squirrel is packed with between $550 and $2,100 in unmarked, American 20, 50 and 100 dollar bills. These squirrels contain no entrails that normal mammals would possess, only mad bank.
The cause for this phenomenon is likely a genetic mutation caused by many squirrels on campus gnawing at specimens of potentially thriving money trees, desperately designed by the College’s chemical engineers in an effort to compensate for recent budget cuts.
“It seemed like a good idea at the time,” Harvey Suxatgym, senior chemical engineering major, said.
This unlikely, and profitable creation was discovered last week by local squirrel hater and junior philosophy major, Ted “the squirrel hater” Critterloather.
“Usually I just smash squirrels because I hate squirrels and enjoy smashing them, but when I smashed one and it was filled with money, I tried another, and another, and they all had money in them. I finally get paid to do what I love.”
Critterloather coined the term (no pun intended) “squirrel smashing” in late 2007, but the concept has recently caught on for many students looking to make an extra buck.
Club Squirrel Smashing was recently recognized as an intramural sport on campus, as teams of four compete to see who can kill the most squirrels and steal their insides in 60 minutes. Each team member gets a regulation-sized claw hammer and frying pan, and anywhere between two and six teams may compete. After 60 minutes of smashing, the teams reconvene at the Brower Student Center to total their earnings. The team with the highest total dollar amount takes the whole pot and are crowned “squirrel smasher extraordinaires,” of the week.
In opposition to these brutal financial tactics, a new campus organization, Students Against Squirrel Smashing (SASS) is setting out to be annoying and unproductive against a wave of violent and poor students.
“We stand with signs reading, ‘How would you like it if a squirrel smashed you?’ but nothing has really happened yet,” founder Gerald Hippiestoner said.
In an effort to combat mankind’s vicious squirrel genocide, an elder squirrel named Nuts McSquirrel has rallied a number of squirrels on campus in a series of work strikes. McSquirrel recently sat down with Singal reporter Donnie Michael Hoy.
Hoy: Thanks for taking the time to sit down with us, Nuts.
McSquirrel: Happy to be here.
Hoy: So many people on campus are calling you the “Gandhi of the squirrel nation” since you have been organizing a group of oppressed minorities in peaceful protest. What are your thoughts on that?
McSquirrel: I’m just a simple squirrel who has a dream. I have a dream that one day squirrels will again be remembered not for the economic value of their innards but the value of their contributions to society.
Hoy: How do you plan on putting an end to what has become a time-honored pastime here at the College?
McSquirrel: Well my bushy-tailed brethren and I have been as patient as we can, but these squirrel smashings have gone on unchecked for too long. Until it all stops, our work strike will continue, and we’ll see how society survives without the squirrel nation.
Hoy: Well, it’s not like squirrels actually do anything productive at all.
McSquirrel: How dare you! Squirrels are the pillars that prevent society as we know it from crumbling.
Hoy: I mean I’ll be honest — I’ve never thought one good thing about squirrels before in my life.
McSquirrel: Not many people know this, but squirrels have been the silent guardians of justice since ancient times. A great darkness resides underneath this campus and occasionally releases its evil smog to the surface world right in front of the student center. We squirrels have been keeping your kind safe since long before any of you arrived here. We were ordered by the gods centuries ago, when this place was still the New Jersey State Normal School to make sure this evil never escaped and harmed mankind. But with so many of us being slain by your unholy hammers, the seal is weakening and your people are in great danger. So please, humans, I beseech you, think beyond your shallow needs for money and material possessions, and leave us squirrels to continue our divine mission.
Hoy: Well, that’s all the time we have, so thanks for your time, Mr. McSquirrel, and good luck preventing the apocalypse.
Nuts McSquirrel was squished 10 minutes later by Hoy in a dark alley.
“He had like dollars in him,” Hoy excitedly said. “Apparently squirrel patriarchs carry a lot more cash. I can’t wait to spend it on a new luxury snuggie.”
All of the College’s squirrels will be burying the bloody skeletal remains of McSquirrel’s decimated body in front of E.A.B. next Friday afternoon. The squirrel nation is inviting humans to attend in order to end this bloody conflict and entreat communication again between humans and squirrels alike. CUB will also be selling double-sided hammers at the entrance to the funeral for maximum squirrel smashing.
