I still remember this conversation clearly ... all of Yuko's apprehension about the house the previous night was burned away by the scorching heat of her untempered rage at the squirrel colony living in the sealed room next door. Here, let me repeat that:
I hate to say it, but I remember being kind of dismissive when Yuko first told me. It turns out that, like war, it's one of those things you can only really understand by having experienced it. The skriching, skittering, and chattering went on all night. Just when a few days had passed and you thought you'd gotten used to it, they'd do start doing something new. I swear those bastards started having tiny squirrel mosh pits in the dark. And then, there was spring. I don't think we're going to do a comic about that specifically because it was so weird and uncomfortable and gross, but in spring things got awful all over again - and it's not what you're thinking. The squirrels breeding was nothing in comparison to the inconsolable mewling of baby squirrels in the weeks and months that followed.
Yuko had always had a tenuous relationship with squirrels, and the squirrel colony
squirrel colony was the straw that broke the camel's back. Yuko now harbors an unfettered need for vengeance against them, and really, who can blame her?
Yuko was also quite happy with the cereal brand she divised for me to eat in panel 3: Full O' Sugar and nothing else. My unfortunate sweet tooth and subsequent attachment to children's cereals is wel-documented here.
Oh, and you know what? Happy Thanksgiving!