Ka-thunk.
“Jesus, Charlie,” said Queen Victoria XXX, her knees bouncing off her face, “what’d you hit this time?”
“Another squirrel, I think.”
“What’re you, aiming for them?”
“I’m not doing it on purpose, they just keep ending up under the tires. I think they’re committing suicide. They’re probably part of a cult.”
“Seriously? A suicidal squirrel cult?”
“Sure,” said Chester A. Arthur XVII. “It’s not nearly as far-fetched as it might sound. It’s well documented that, throughout time, all manner of cults have resorted to suicide as a final ritual, regardless of the various lines of reasoning that led there. And given the sheer volume of things that are gaining sentience that shouldn’t be these past few years, it only makes sense that similarly cognitively-enhanced members of a species would band together—at first turning to one another for companionship and a sense of understanding, but eventually entering into a similar mindset. Couple this with the animal kingdom’s heightened sense of danger and unrest and it’s safe to assume that those wild and untamed creatures are fully aware of just how fucked this planet is. With the only options open to them being trying to identify and fight an elusive and intangible enemy or attempting to flee from the all-encompassing nature of said invisible threat, it’s not hard to believe that their fight or flight instinct would reconcile itself to suicide. Hell, it’s amazing that they haven’t all hanged themselves already.”
“Well, no, not really,” said William H. Taft XLII. “I mean, you can’t seriously expect squirrels to tie a noose.”
“There’s bound to be an artificially educated chimp somewhere with the know-how and the thumbs to perform such a task.”
“You think there’s a monkey somewhere, just knitting nooses and selling them to squirrels?” asked Queen Victoria XXX.
“Well, not necessarily selling. He could be bartering for them, or giving them away. Chimpanzees are industrious. There’s bound to be at least one looking to capitalize on the misfortunes of his brethren.”
“Squirrels and chimps aren’t brothers,” replied William H. Taft XLII.
“They’re closer to each other than they are to us.”
“Wrong again, Charlie,” said Queen Victoria XXX. “Evolutionarily speaking, chimps are much closer to us than to squirrels. Everyone knows that.”
“Would you buy a noose from a chimp?”
“Why would I be buying a noose?”
“Just answer the question. Yes or no.”
“No.”
“Right. And the inhabitants of the animal kingdom know this. After years of trying to make them wear pants and play the accordion, or chasing them out of our attics with brooms, humans are undoubtedly despised by both chimps and squirrels alike. Physically, humans and apes may be related, sure, but, socially, spiritually, chimps would identify more with squirrels. They would be brethren in a fraternal sense.”
“Have you ever lost an argument?”
“Once. That guy’s not alive anymore, though.”