Skippy looks at all of the people who were now discussing him, and chuckles his sinister squirrel chuckle. As he chuckled, he looked again at the Druid, at the same time as waving his small stubbly arms for his elite squirrel strike force. Once the signal was given, a complex movement of Skippy's tale resembling a natural squirrel's desire to use their tail to tickle their nose, nine squirrels dressed in camo gear fell from the ceiling surrounding Skippy. In each of the nine squirrels hands was a wooden gun of somesort, shaped as though it would fire a projectile roughly the size of a walnut. These squirrel warriors, proceeded to aim their weapons at all of the people in the room, while Skippy laughed again, his manical squirrel laugh.
"Mahehehehe. Squeakles. Squeak - squeaken, squeaker squeak. Squeakem, squeak-squeak, squeakler. Squeakers-squeakem, squeakler-squeak."
Roughly translated...
"And so begins the mighty squirrel push! The squirrels will rule over all of creation! My mighty forces shall begin by overtaking this bar and making all of it's inhabitants my slaves! Muwahahahaha!"
"... if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for Destruction Ice is also great
And would suffice."
- Robert Frost