I AM A NEW YORK YOGA INSTRUCTOR WHO HAPPENS TO BE A SQUIRREL NOT THE OTHER WAY AROUND!

today i witnessed my best friend igor get run over by a busload full of hideous children, snorting, their faces covered with acne, their mouths lined with metal, their hands grasping terrible multi-colored balloons; purple, yellow, orange helium infused orbs trailing behind the caravan of catastrophic debasement. They were on their way to Six Flags Great Adventure. Cries of debauchery were audible emanating from the bus, vicious giggles, haunting songs of death- old mc donald had a farm, ei ei o. Who is this old mcdonald, saint of cretins and war mongerers? where is his farm so that i may kill him in revenge??? OH IGOR, I shouted into the air. WAS HABEN SIE DIR GEMACHT I chanted wildly in Igor’s native tongue. Igor’s eyelids flashed open for a fraction of a second- his yellow iris met mine- he mumbled something in German, I recognized the word Mutter. The rest was incomprehensible. Then his eyelids slammed shut. The essence of life left his corpus. Igor's squirrel soul floated up into the heavens. I was alone on 4th street with not an acorn to my name.