Dear Dead Squirrel,
As you may or may not have noticed by now, you're flat and probably being picked over by vultures. Did things really have to turn out this way? I tried to avoid you, I truly did. I just have to ask though; did you have a death wish or something? I can roughly imagine that life as a squirrel is a tough existance, with all the predators and what-not that you have to avoid, and all the food you have to collect just to survive, but was it so important that you had get to the other side of the road at that very moment?
If there had been a video record of this incident, it would have shown that there was indeed no one in front of me nor was there anyone behind me; you could've went at any time after I had driven passed, at your own leisure mind you. As you scampered across the road for whatever reason unbekownst to me; (the reason, if any, died with you) I slowed down and veered slightly to the left. It was at this point you made the correct choice and stopped; your safe passage was almost certainly ensured.
Sadly, however, you decided to continue, crossing my path yet again. I once more made the necessary adjustments to my direction and speed, and drifted to the right, thus giving you two chances at life. It was shortly after my second course correction, however, that you foolishly decided to head back across to where you had started this whole chain of events, but by that time the only reasonable option left open for me, was to line you up so that I would drive over you; I was doing a measly ten miles an hour at this point. Now, I realize that being under the car couldn't have been very pleasant for you by any means; though I'm definitely positive it would've been better than what was to be your final fateful decision.
Your last moments, I could not see you as you were already under my vehicle at the time; I imagine the dreadful noises of the engine; its terrific sounds being reflected off and then amplified by the pavement below. There may have been panic and confusion filling your mind as you desperately tried to decide what to do next, but once again you failed to make the right choice. Judging by what you did, it seemed to me that your brilliant plan was to hide under my tires.
As I felt the car bump up and down I couldn't help but think about the fraility of life in this great cosmic ocean that we call the universe. What did it all mean? If I had left but just a minute earlier or a minute later you may not have become vulture food, but then again, the vultures may not have had a meal and I never would have wrote this.
Farewell Dead Squirrel.