May I have your attention, please. This is an emergency message from the Office of Boathouse Services. STOP.
The Boathouse is currently under attack by legions of rabid squirrels. I repeat, we are being attacked by squirrels. Please implement Boathouse Emergency Squirrel Protocol 1B as per your Boathouse Emergency Handbook. STOP.
The squirrels are holding the McKay Pass and have established a forward command post at the McDonald-Kelce Library. No civilians have been harmed, as there is never anyone in the McDonald-Kelce Library. STOP.
The leader of the squirrels has identified himself as The People’s Glorious Revolutionary Squirrel Army Commander Foamy, and has issued a list of demands. The demands are as follows:
1) The squirrels demand all of your nuts.
2) The squirrels demand that from now on, whenever you see a squirrel, you run, chittering, up the nearest tree. If a suitable tree is not available, you may run, chittering, directly into traffic.
3) The squirrels demand their own television show on WUTT, which, they observe, is not being used anyway. This show will focus on the plight of Squirrel-Americans and related sociopolitical and economic issues.
4) The squirrels demand the opportunity to compete for the opportunity to spend a semester in Oxford, and to have their greviances heard by the Conduct Board. The Conduct Board will implement Article 19, Squirrel Harrassment, punishable by immediate expulsion.
5) The squirrels demand an immediate establishment of a Furry Club on the the University of Tampa campus. As a sign of goodwill, Ronald Vaughn and Bob Ruday will appear on the quad outside Brevard, attired in full “fursona” as Chip and Dale. STOP.
Rest assured that we have no intention of submitting to the demands of these bushy-tailed maniacs. Though they have chosen to strike while the majority of our forces are afield, subjugating the University of South Florida in a glorious campaign that minstrels will sing of for generations, we have more than enough Nerf guns and Super Soakers to repel them. STOP.
Warning! Warning! The squirrels are advancing on the Boathouse! They are launching a coordinated terrorist attack on our local infrastructure! A kamikaze ‘suicide squirrel’ has thrown itself into the wiring! We are down to mood lighting here, people! Mood lighting! We must summon Super Chino! STOP.
Attention all ships at sea, attention all ships at sea, please dock for immediate evacuation of all Boathouse residents and personnel to the Bahamas. I repeat, our only hope is to flee to the Bahamas! STOP.
Ladies and gentlemen, you thought me mad, but I knew this day would come. When we held squirrel attack drills at three a.m., you balked. When I had twelve field gun emplacements installed on the Boathouse balcony, you complained. We have endured plague, famine, pestilence, unpleasant smells, and the untimely demise of our microwave, not to mention a host of others trials. But we have a new microwave! And, bearing our new microwave before us, we will win through, no matter the cost!
I have absolute faith in you; this is how I know that you will be able to prevail even in my absence. While I await the results of battle in my triple-reinforced concrete bunker, you will send these scurrilous sciuridae home with their tails between their legs! I will be monitoring your progress by satelite from ResLife’s secret base on the dark side of the moon, which occupies the future site of Residence Hall Forty-Nine. When you look up into the night sky, camoflagued and surrounded by the enemy though you may be, know this: Like Vice President Dick Cheney, I’m watching your backs from my secure, undisclosed location!