When Adorable Furry Creatures Attack.

Okay, another story about my brother, The Genius.



My brother, The Genius, was cleaning his garage. He had some long iron pipes standing up near the back door, and one had fallen down, so it was kind of standing up on a diagonal. The pipe was really heavy, so he was using another pipe to try and pry it back up where it belonged.



So my brother, The Genius, is sweating and working really hard with this pipe when he starts hearing little scratching noises. He said he didn't think much of it, just kept dealing with the pipe. [At this point in the story I interrupted to ask what the hell he was doing with sewer pipe in his garage. He didn't answer me.]



My three year old nephew wandered out to see what his dad was doing, and my brother told him to go in the house. "This is dangerous," he said, his voice straining. "Go back inside with your mom."

At just that moment, a tiny furry thing shot out of the pipe, ran up my brother's arm, and bit him in the shoulder. My brother screamed like a girl and dropped the pipe. He jumped all around, shaking his arm, trying to get whatever it was off him. It just clung to him, biting him over and over and making little squeaky noises. My nephew, meanwhile, is laughing hysterically.

The furry thing was successfully flung to the other side of the garage, where it sat, stunned, for a few moments. My brother cautiously went over to investigate, trying to figure out what kind of vicious animal could attack him like that. He thought it had to be a rat, because that's the only thing he thought might be aggressive enough to just run out and bite him. But upon closer investigation, the violent creature turned out to be a ...

... chipmunk. My brother was attacked by a chipmunk. Chipmunks, as far as aggression goes, rate right up there with baby kittens and butterflies.

I asked my brother if he went and got tested for rabies. Because he is a Genius, he did not. But he hasn't started foaming at the mouth yet, so I think he's going to be alright.