Zombie Squirrels

Made it, bitches.

Arrived at my dad’s beach house at 10:00 pm last night.

Had a bit of a dramatic arrival though. My dad said he’d stay up for me (which we argued about back and forth for twenty minutes) because I don’t have a key to his house yet), and he doesn’t like leaving it unlocked.

So I arrive. Get out of the car, approach the door while trying to juggle two suitcases, my purse, my keys, and Dart (Good job ODers. Dart ftw). I get a free hand to pull on the door and THUD. It doesn’t open, causing me to drop my keys and purse.

So I call my dad. ring….ring….ring….ring….ring…"I’m probably screening this call. But leave a message anyway." 

Fuck. Dad. Really? At this point, Dart is getting all nervous and whinny because he’s quite possibly the biggest pansy in the world. So I move to inspect the back door. Locked. I check the windows. Locked. Damn, this man is paranoid with his medical mary jane!

So I sit on my suitcase and calm D down while trying to remember some epic break in scene from a movie that I could re-create. But this is useless since I’m the clumsiest human being on this planet.

Thinking about movies distracting me from my grand entrance. I ended up falling asleep on my suitcase for three hours. Then Dart started spazzing at………..a squirrel. For his sake, I’ll exaggerate and say it was a rabid zombie squirrel from earth’s core. Whatever. His barking woke me up (and nearly sent me into cardiac arrest, mind you!).

But it was effective at getting my dad to come to the door. So, Dart saves the day.

My dad loves Dart. I think it was the perfect roommate pick. However, my dad looks looks like his laundry basket….overloaded and wrinkly. Worst analogy ever. Fuck you, I slept on luggage last night. I’m not exactly with it.

……As I’m typing this, Dart is trying desperately to lick my cooch. Should I be concerned?