Howdy, everyone! I own very little. X-Men: Evolution/G.I. Joe belong to Marvel. The Misfits are the creation of Red Witch. This story is a pretty shameless adaptation of the article "Squirrel Grenade" by T-Duck over on (which I got from my aunt who got it from a mailing list, who, I assume, got it from the forum or from someone else who got it from there.) I read it and couldn't help picturing it as this. I hope you enjoy. Oh, if you want "Squirrel Grenade" go ahead and email me for it. I believe my email is available on my profile page…

Nature Attacks!

Logan cautiously looked around him; double checking that no one was watching him. The Misfits had arrived not to long ago for another one of their visits and the usual madcap activities were happening right and left. And now the other adults were all occupied with one or more of the kids and so it was time for him to make his getaway. He just couldn't stand one more day with both groups of kids fighting one another.

As he started up his motorcycle and sped away, he felt as if a huge weight was lifted off his shoulders. He knew that Ororo, Hank, and Chuck would probably be incredibly angry with him for taking off, but he could deal with that. It was sure to be less painful than sticking around at the mansion for the day.

He spent the day just driving around, taking in the scenery, and delighting in the relative silence of the road.) He turned back toward the mansion around mid afternoon, his conscience slightly (very slightly) nagging at him. He figured that the Misfits wouldn't be there much longer and the couple of hours or so before they left was usually the worst. Little did he know that those short hours would be a cakewalk compared to what was about to happen.

He was driving along a residential street toward home and was about to pass by a car that was going the opposite direction when a squirrel shot out from beneath the wheels right into the path of his cycle like a fuzzy brown bullet. He didn't have time to veer or in any other way avoid the small animal so he braced himself for impact.

Amazingly, just a short distance from impact, the squirrel jumped to his hind feet and stood, staring down the black wheel that could squash him like a pancake in just seconds. Just before impact the squirrel leaped, a battle cry emerging from his throat, a cry that must have been the squirrel equivalent of "Geronimo!" or "Die, Scum, die!" or, perhaps, something more crass and ear-burning. The squirrel's leap vaulted him over the spinning black wheel and up over the windshield and hit Logan's tee shirt covered chest.

The squirrel wasted no time in attacking the burly man with a frenzy that could easily have Logan convinced that an army of the little creatures was attacking him. The squirrel snarled, hissed, and tore into him with his tiny--but sharp--little claws. Those little nails easily ripped snags and holes in the tee shirt. The longer the warrior squirrel fought, the more he resembled a hurricane of violence.

And so the large man was idling down a quiet residential street on an impressive looking Harley, wearing a tee shirt, jeans, and his driving gloves and fighting a hyper little squirrel with all his might. Most remarkably he was fighting a small squirrel and losing.

Logan was finally able to grab the fluffy tail of the little heathen with his left hand and threw it off to the side; happy he was finally out of the unbelievable situation. Or so he thought.

Against all odds the psychotic little squirrel grabbed the mutant's finger with his own little hands and, using the force of the throw, swung himself around to launch himself onto his target's back, taking the leather glove with him. Immediately the squirrel continued his assault, screeching and clawing.

This motion put him at an obvious advantage since he was now out of reach of the startled man.
Due to the force of the throw, the lack of control of the bike, and Logan's frenzied movements, his hand twisted the throttle; the bike's engine roaring as it picked up speed. The front wheel lifted off the ground and into a wheelie. The squirrel screeched in anger, the Harley in sheer bliss, and the macho mutant like a little girl in a horror flick.

The bike was now flying down the quiet residential street on one wheel at seventy miles an hour and rapidly picking up speed. The surely demonic squirrel was still on his back, still fighting like the devil. Both animal and mutant were screaming like unhappy psychiatric patients.

Logan was forced to stop his frantic reaches for the squirrel and put his left hand back on the handlebars in order to keep control of the bike. He didn't want to bring more lawsuits against the mansion for destroyed property or injuries. His brain had shut down, focusing only on ways to get away from the squirrel that must have been William Wallace or some such warrior in one of its past lives and on avoiding lawsuits.

The squirrel noticed that the fight was now mostly one-sided and became angrier. He crawled around the mutant's neck and actually forced his way into the full-face helmet to draw attention back to him. Maybe the squirrel had some strange form of Munchausen's Syndrome? By now the Harley was going eighty, the engine roaring and was drowned out by the screams of both beasts.

Logan made quite a vision, speeding by on his Hog in a long-drawn out wheelie, a puffy tail sticking out of the front of the helmet, screaming like a banshee, his torn shirt was flapping behind him in the wind.

By now he was frantic and his motor skills returned. He reached up and pulled on the fuzzy tail, removing the creature from his helmet and, once again flung the squirrel away from him. And this time it worked…in a weird sort of way.

A cop car was parked on the opposite side of the street with the windows rolled down, the two officers inside working on paperwork, keeping half-an-eye out for illegal doings.

It was as the squirrel, Logan, and his Hog passed the black and white vehicle that he launched the furry creature away from him…and straight into the open window of the cop car!

And he heard screams. Screams that were not his own.

He finally managed to get the bike under control and slid to a stop at a busy cross street. He debated whether or not to return to explain the situation to the cops and to get his glove back. And he definitely would have gone back to fess up if it hadn't been for three things. The first was that the Mansion had enough lawsuits being filed against it what with the Misfits and the X-Men's antics. The second was that the cops seemed to have everything under control.

He looked back to where he lost the demonic creature. The police officers were screaming bloody murder, one was quickly crawling away from the cruiser, an expression of sheer terror on his face, and the other one was aiming a shotgun into the vehicle, bent on taking his car back.

Yep, they definitely had things under control. At least more control than he had had. The third reason was what he saw in the back window of the cruiser. There the squirrel stood on its hind legs, his tiny fist raised into the air. Logan was convinced that it was giving him the finger and screaming expletives in its foreign squirrel language.

That was one psychotic, dangerous squirrel.

An insane and potentially lethal squirrel that was now in control of the police cruiser.

Logan growled and turned back to the mansion. Nothing there could be as bad as what had just happened to him.