The Sounds of Screaming
So, I sat in my bed for a second, listening to these ungodly shrieks, wondering what everyone else in the building was thinking. At this point, it was obvious that the sound was coming from outside near our garbage bins. I had come to the conclusion that it was the squawking of an injured bird...an insanely melodramatic injured bird.
But you know how when you first wake up, your logic is totally skewed? I was convinced for about 5 minutes that I shouldn't look outside because if the bird were a raven or a crow, then it would be a bad omen, and I would certainly be bringing about my own untimely death. Once I broke out of this fatigued voodoo state, I reached for my glasses and climbed to the foot of my bed to peer out of the window. Lo and behold, there was no human screaming, no bird shrieking, no raven, no crow, no monster...the screams were coming from...
A SQUIRREL???? And not just any squirrel...a giant squirrel. This squirrel was the size of a cocker spaniel and it was screaming as it hopped from one trash can to another in search of its food. Who knew squirrels made any sound other than little nut-gnawing squeaks and such? So, if it wasn't injured, was this screaming the squirrel's equivalent to 'Whistle While You Work?' Was it making these godawful noises out of pure joy? Maybe for attention, like Bobcat Goldthwait or Peewee Herman or Delta Burke who vociferate their own particular squeaks, grunts, and whinnies. Whatever the reason, it sounded so unnatural coming from this creature. Not unlike the Simpsons episode with the endangered screaming caterpillar. It was tantamount to having a pet bunny serenade you with a Creed power ballad.
What the hell was wrong with this squirrel? And just then, we made eye contact and the little monster became silent. I was certain it could leap to my second floor window. My friend, Leslie, from high school used to tell this story about how she once threw a milkshake into one of those trash cans with the swinging flap cover, and as the flap swung back out, a squirrel flew out of the can and attached itself to her face. Squirrels are m-effing loco. So, I was quietly thankful for my window screen.
Anywho, shortly after our staring contest, this huge beast of a rodent screamed one last time and jumped over the fence into the Brooklyn wilderness. And with nothing but love in my heart, I marveled at her highness, Mother Nature.