There was a pile of broken acorns near two cigarette butts in the alley behind my house today. (Seriously. This ain't no Glenn Beck sh*t.)
There is no tree behind my house, or accumulation of butts since I quit smoking.
I'm of the mind that the government has released a plague of nicotine-addled squirrels upon us. (You know, like Reagan et al did with crack cocaine.)
And that, in reality, even crazed rat-like monsters roaming about are better than what the Peacock boys did with Mama Peacock back in Season Four.