Mr. Henderson and the Unscheduled Celestial Tenant

Mr. Henderson considered the hole where his living room wall used to be. A small, rather singed squirrel sat in the middle of the debris, looking equally surprised. "Well," he observed, adjusting his spectacles, "that's certainly not ideal for insulation." He then noted the faint smell of ozone. Later, when the structural engineer, a frantic woman named Ms. Finch, arrived, she stared wide-eyed at the squirrel, then at the sky visible through the new aperture. "Mr. Henderson," she stammered, "what in the ever-loving name of engineering *happened* here?" Mr. Henderson sipped his Earl Grey. "It appears," he stated, "that a meteorite, likely a relatively small one given the squirrel's survival, has made an unscheduled visit." Ms. Finch gaped. "A meteorite?! And you're... drinking tea?" "One must maintain one's hydration," he replied, gesturing vaguely towards the celestial intruder. "Besides, the tea was already brewed. No sense letting it go cold." The squirrel, now recovered, began meticulously burying an acorn in a pile of plaster dust. Mr. Henderson watched it with a flicker of interest. "Perhaps," he mused, "we should charge rent."