In a bold move that's shaking the financial world to its core—or should we say, to its acorn—squirrels in Central Park have declared independence from human currency. Tired of begging for peanuts from tourists, these furry entrepreneurs have launched the Acorn Exchange, a stock market where nuts are the new gold standard. Wall Street brokers are scratching their heads, wondering if they've been outsmarted by rodents with bushy tails.

The rebellion started innocently enough with a squirrel named Nutty McFluffytail, who reportedly hoarded enough acorns to rival a small bank's reserves. 'Why trade in green paper when you can trade in green energy sources?' McFluffytail chattered in an exclusive interview, translated via a dubious squirrel whisperer. The Acorn Exchange now features IPOs for oak trees, futures in walnut harvests, and even a cryptocurrency called SquirrelCoin, which promises to be as volatile as a nut in a blender.

Economists are baffled, with one Harvard professor admitting, 'We've modeled recessions, booms, and bubbles, but never a market driven by seasonal foraging.' Park rangers, meanwhile, are out of peanuts and patience, as squirrels now demand acorn tributes for safe passage through the park. 'It's anarchy,' one ranger lamented, 'They've unionized and are striking for better tree rights.'

Human attempts to infiltrate the market have been hilariously rebuffed. A venture capitalist disguised as a giant squirrel was chased up a tree after offering Bitcoin in exchange for hazelnuts. 'These squirrels are savvy,' said the embarrassed investor, 'They saw right through my fake tail.'

As the acorn economy booms, side effects are rippling through the park. Birds are forming alliances, demanding seed subsidies, while rabbits plot their own carrot cartel. If this trend continues, we might see the rise of a full-fledged animal federation, leaving humans to fend with their outdated dollars and sense—pun intended.

In a final twist, the squirrels have announced plans for an acorn stimulus package to combat winter shortages. 'No nut left behind,' their manifesto declares. As Central Park becomes the new Silicon Valley of the squirrel world, one thing's clear: the nuts are running the asylum, and they're cashewing in big time.