[autopsying a dead squirrel]
This reminds me of my junior year abroad. I was staying with a family outside of Lyons who spoke only French, and my French was... okay at best. Now, whatever you may think of the people of France, the squirrels are extraordinarily friendly. So I had to explain to them my fear of squirrels. You see, in D.C. there are brown squirrels and black squirrels, and at a time, black squirrels carried rabies. So my mother used to bait traps with peanut butter, capture the squirrels and release them on the other side of the river. But I confused the word écureuil, which means "squirrel," with the much-less accurate requin, which means, uh... "shark."
How they must have pictured your strange homeland with your shark-hunting mother.
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