Chuck casts around blindly for something to use as a net -- and grabs a paper plate.

He lunges at the squirrel, and it veers off towards the other side of the Conn-Pod. He glances at the plate, and puts it back down. "Squirrel," he says. "They get into fucking everything, and try to hide their food in it."

He pulls off his t-shirt, keeping his hands in the armholes as he stalks across the room after it.