In a stunning display of determination and sheer gluttony, the fat squirrel living in your yard has officially evolved into a “rounder” form, transforming into the ultimate embodiment of tons o’ fun with a furry tail. After months of relentless snacking, this overstuffed critter is now waddling (if you can call it that) its way through the last days of fall, confidently packing on the pounds like a squirrel-shaped bowling ball ready to roll into hibernation.
Eyewitnesses report that the rotund rodent, affectionately nicknamed “Lord Fatty McAcorn,” has been single-mindedly devouring everything in sight. Your bird feeder? Emptied. That pile of sunflower seeds? Gutted. Neighbors are starting to suspect that even the leaves on the ground aren’t safe from this pudgy little powerhouse.
“He’s so round, he’s more basketball than squirrel at this point,” says neighbor Carl P., who’s been monitoring Lord Fatty’s increasingly spherical form with a mixture of awe and fear. “I’m pretty sure he ate my Halloween decorations. I saw him carrying off a mini pumpkin the other day, and now it’s just…gone.”
This walking ball of fluff is now moving less with agility and more with the slow, deliberate pace of someone who’s just finished their third Thanksgiving dinner. The yard has essentially become his all-you-can-eat buffet, and while other squirrels are frantically stockpiling acorns, Lord Fatty McAcorn seems to have ditched the idea of storing anything. He’s storing it all in himself.
As he rolls—yes, rolls—from tree to tree, it’s becoming increasingly difficult to tell where the acorn ends and the squirrel begins. “I’m half-expecting him to lose the ability to climb soon,” says wildlife enthusiast Kelly J. “The dude’s so round, he might just start bouncing instead.”
Experts believe that Lord Fatty’s newfound mass gives him an undeniable advantage for winter survival, provided he can even fit into his cozy tree hideout. Neighbors have started placing bets on whether he’ll have to dig a wider entrance or just sit outside, slowly sinking into the ground like a lawn ornament.
At this point, his tail is the only reminder that this isn’t just a small, mobile beanbag chair with legs. Every step he takes is accompanied by a tiny shake of his colossal belly, a testament to his unrelenting quest for snacks. “He’s so round, it’s like he’s achieved peak squirrel,” Carl P. adds, shaking his head. “There’s no way he’s not going to crush winter. Literally.”
As temperatures drop, it’s clear that Lord Fatty McAcorn is primed and ready for winter. He’s taken ‘bulking season’ to new heights—and widths. While you’re shivering in your parka, he’ll be comfortably nestled somewhere, belly full and tail wrapped around his rotund frame like the fluffiest blanket nature ever made.
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