Rather than pay any attention to the odd bipedal squirrel you've become, or even the odd, ghostly monk figure's presence, you turn your attention to a nearby tree. It being dark outside, you begin to fear the possibility of predators nearby.
You quickly scurry over to a nearby tree and jump on it, latching your dark-colored nails into the bark. You wrap your legs around the sides of the tree, trying to make due with shoes being over your hind claws. You suddenly hear the loud ripping sound of your pants splitting even further at the hole formed by your tail, yet pay no heed to it as you pull yourself up the height of this large tree.
The motion are almost natural, as if you were designed to do this. You recall thinking that strange thought as you climb, suddenly pulling yourself up to a nearby branch. You swing around the branch and land on your feet and hands, squatted over, looking down the 20 foot height below you.
Human logic suddenly takes over, and so does a fear of heights. You feel a slight amount of vertigo looking down at the ground below you. You sit right above the cheetah's cage, and even though they're asleep, any accidental fall would easily wake them. You pull yourself off your legs and sit down on the branch, trying not to concentrate on the height.
You look over to the nearby brick wall. Surprisingly enough, you seem to have climbed high enough that you can look over the parking lot. You can even see your car parked there. Yours and someone else's.
It was then that you noticed the branch happened to go over the wall. It's possible, in this strange rodent-like form, to get out of this zoo before daybreak. It's even possible that you could change back just by getting out of the zoo. You begin to wonder who that strange cloaked person was...
Suddenly, your stomach begins to grumble. All that climbing must have made you hungry. You bite your lip. You've never been starving like this before in your life. You turn your head and suddenly notice the absolute largest acorn you've ever seen in your life hanging from the branch just above you. Your squirrel sense wants to kick in. The acorn has to be larger than a watermelon, and it's just above your head.
This is almost like some form of test, you think. That acorn could be the end of your humanity, put there just to keep you. Yet at the same time, you were so hungry that you could probably eat that whole thing. You've never eaten acorn before in your life, but at that moment it suddenly felt natural.