Icarus Descends

Today I went into the borough of Wimbledon to find me some backpacking supplies (I am going to Sweden tomorrow). On the way back (from Wimbledon, not Sweden), I got myself lost a little. The sun came out for a little bit, and all was well. Little did I know the horrors in store for me...

As I passed a halfway house, I heard a rustling directly above me. I looked up and saw that a squirrel was playing on the branches of a very tall tree.

The longer I looked at the squirrel (whom I have christened Icarus), the more I noticed that her playing habits didn't look particularly playful. In fact, Icarus wasn't really playing; she was hanging on the branch for her dear life. Within seconds, I realized that Icarus wasn't going to be able to hold on much- oh wait, now she is falling.

The next four thoughts went like this:

1. Oh shit, that squirrel is going to fall on me.
2. If it falls on me, I am going to get bitten and have rabies.
3. If it doesn't fall on me, it is going to fall like 20 feet (6.096 metres) onto the sidewalk.
4. I am going to post this on my blog.

Now, all of these thoughts occurred within a fraction of a second, but nevertheless, by Thought #2, I was running away as fast as I could. And by this time, thought #3 took over and although I didn't actually turn back to save Icarus from her impending doom, I put my fingers in my ears mid-stride. Nevertheless, I will never be able to get the sound of Icarus' impact out of my head- it sounded like whacking a brick with a dull hammer.

I stopped my run (by now I was like 15 feet away) and thought for a little bit. My next thoughts were:

1. It didn't fall on me. That's good.
2. It hit the sidewalk. That's bad. I killed it.
3. Maybe I won't post this on my blog, as I am an evil organism.
4. I should look.
5. No, I should keep walking.
6. No, I will look.

And look I did. I was expecting to see something resembling Kosovo behind me, but all I saw was Icarus looking very stunned and very short. We both just stood there (well, Icarus kind of laid there, to be exact) and then Icarus limped away. Now, I am pretty positive that Icarus has since gone to meet her maker, but I am going to ward off this Catholic guilt by pretending she is alive and posting the experience on her blog as we speak.

- Lunn D.