This morning as I walked up the brick sidewalk to my building, I noticed a squirrel scampering along beside me. When I turned to speak to him and wish him a good day, he disappeared. Odd, I thought. Usually the squirrels at least pause long enough to let me talk to them. And then, as I walked past the tree in front of the library, I noticed a small carving: SSS forever. My suspicions were confirmed. Before too long, the battle will begin. My furry-tailed friend was taking no chances.

I have long maintained the theory that the squirrels on this campus are planning to take over the entire school. As a college senior, in my parting newspaper column, I urged the students to make friends with the squirrels, to talk to them and let them know that they care. Why? Because the squirrels are planning a violent takeover, and when it happens, you don't want to be on their bad side. If you call them rodents, if you think they're just rats with fluffy tails, THEY KNOW. And no matter how small you think their brains are, they will remember.

For years, they have been here. Watching, waiting. They have witnessed the injustices. They have seen how things have been handled. They realize that this university needs an alumni magazine, not a shoddy looking tabloid newspaper. They are aware of the unfair attitude toward women, the salary discrepancies, the low morale of the employees. And they know that they could change it.

But how? How could they make a difference? It started in 1969, with a squirrel named Archibald (no relation to the founder of the school). Realizing the need for a unified front, he founded the Secret Society of Squirrels (SSS). The first meeting was held in the tree outside of the president's office. Five squirrels were founding members. They laid out a plan, deciding the best way to handle their takeover. They were smart squirrels; and knowing that to be successful their mission would require thousands of squirrels, they set out with their first order of business: reproduction. More than 30 years have passed since that inaugural meeting, and their numbers are growing. Squirrels are everywhere on campus, but they don't even represent half of them. Many of them hide in the trees and in the attics of buildings to avoid notice. Too many squirrels might draw criticism and suspicion from the humans.

Archibald's great-great-great-great-great-great-great grandson is now president of the society, and he is a good, strong leader. He has conditioned his army for battle, teaching them not only how to successfuly bite and scratch humans, but also how to read and write. They can operate computers and digital cameras, and they possess the most up-to-date technology. They have bugged the bushes surrounding the library (their main headquarters is located in the stacks on the third floor of the library) and they have an intricate security camera system networked throughout the campus.

In a few months from now, their numbers should be sufficient-- their plan ready to be carried out. Because of my close relationship with the squirrels, I anticipate a position of high leadership. Together, we will annihilate all that is closed-minded and unfair on this campus. We will overcome.