YOUR FIRST FIRE SQUIRREL

You slam the car into drive and floor it toward the road, gravel spraying behind you. In your rearview mirror, the torrent of gray and brown squirrels pours down your driveway like spilled oatmeal, but they’re falling behind. Good. You’re putting distance between—

SIZZLE.

The smell hits you first—burning rubber mixed with something like… barbecue?

Your heart sinks.

The flaming squirrel is still doing its windshield dance, but now the wiper arm is starting to smoke. Molten rubber drips down the glass in black, sticky rivulets, obscuring your view even more.

You hit the main road, Maple Ridge Drive, which on any normal Tuesday would be busy with commuters and delivery trucks. Now it stretches empty in both directions like the aftermath of a neutron bomb. Not a single car. Not even abandoned ones.

Where is everyone?

The fire squirrel’s red flames dance across its fur as it continues its frantic journey back and forth. The metal wiper arm is starting to glow and you’re beginning to feel the heat radiating through the windshield.

Frantically, you try swerving left and right to shake it loose, hitting the brakes, gunning the accelerator. Nothing works. The creature’s paws are stuck fast to the mechanism.

Then you remember—your umbrella! It’s right there next to the passenger seat where you always keep it.

You risk a glance in the rearview mirror. The squirrel horde is finally fading back, dispersing as you get out of their territory. They’re giving up the chase, scattering back toward the neighborhood like a scattered wave returning to the sea.

One problem at a time.

You grab the umbrella and roll down the driver’s side window, cool air rushing in. Now, if you can just reach over and knock this flaming menace off without losing control of the car…