There was a distinct disadvantage to being as tall as a young tree and that was that things tended to want to climb you. Ignoring the fact, of course, that most things were persuaded to do so because squatting to their level sometimes required more work than it was worth. The other disadvantage was that it meant he wasn't very coordinated when it came to moving quickly. Not at all. So when the squirrels turned on him, Sweeney had a brief moment to glare at the djinn before they began to ascend his long legs. Flailing his arms about and attempting to kick them away failed in the worst way.
Sweeney was tumbling toward the ground.
He hated squirrels. He hated rodents, the less delicious of them anyway - rabbits were alright on his list, and guinea pigs... but squirrels were horrible scavenging creatures. They collected and ate damn near anything they came upon and that, to Mad Sweeney, was nearly as repulsive as living on chestnuts and chestnuts alone. He lived a life similar to that of a squirrel when he was much younger and in Ireland, and he didn't care to repeat it. Nor did he care for squirrels any more prior to the incident with the trees than he did now. In fact, he probably cared for them even less.
Even so, he was thrashing, cursing in both Irish and English and trying to thwart the attack being made on him. Stupid Djinn. When he was done with the squirrels he had half a mind to punch her square in the fucken jaw. "Get off of me, you bloody fucken bastards." In between the failing and the casting off of the crazed rodentia, his hands dug into his pockets to remove the nuts that were placed in there, hoping to gain ground by distracting the creatures.
Except that somehow, one had found its way into his pants. Then Mad Sweeney was back on his feet, screaming like the beansidhe he hated so much, and patting at the mobile mass in his trousers. "Get these bloody fucken things off of me you infernal woman!"