My head used to house seventeen screaming squirrels.
They were totally over-caffeinated and raucous, climbing the walls of the little boardroom in my brain, swinging from ceiling fixtures, pulling books off the shelves, tearing out pages and tossing them across the room. 
They squealed and chattered and smacked their little squirrel-sized coffee mugs on the conference table, each one thinking what he or she had to say was the most important thing of the day. Occasionally, little window washer squirrels would show up on the pulley operated scaffolding outside the big boardroom windows (that may or may not actually be my eyes). They’d bang on the windows with their window washing squeegees, demanding the attention of the other squirrels. Everyone wanted to be the squirrel in charge.
Luckily, they moved on, I don’t know where. I don’t care where. They weren’t paying rent, they were uninvited guests, squatters. The boardroom has been quiet. The cleaning crew came in and scooped up all the torn bits, vacuumed the rug, washed the squirrel prints off the windows, polished the conference table ’til it gleamed.
And when no one was looking, when the security guards let down their secure guardianship, three howler monkeys with a crack stem and a bottle of Yukon Jack wandered in.
While I’m a grateful for the reduction in the number of squatters, please let me point out that howler monkeys are a great deal larger than squirrels….
WTF?????????????