I plan to leave the contest from yesterday's post open until at least Sunday night. so guess away. Author #7 has everyone stumped so far. I promise he is a very well known author.
I've been blogging a good long while now and I love sharing stories with y'all but I also tend to be an oral storyteller. The combination of those facts sometimes leads me to forget if I've written up a particular story or only told it to friends over a beer or three. It is possible I've already blogged this, but today while reading Hilary's blog I was reminded of a story about a raccoon. Unlike Hilary's post my tale is sort of macabre. But this October and what better time to share a dark twisted tale.
Peaches Ain't Free
August is no time to be pregnant. At least it wasn't for my wife. Never a fan of the heat, she was having a hell of a time this particular August. Two months. That's how long she had until our second child was slated to arrive, but to Jennifer it might as well have been two years. Add in the fact she spent every day trying to keep up with a twenty-two month old and Jennifer was never in the chipperest of moods when I arrived home from work.
But this particular day she wasn't merely tired, frazzled and hot. She was worried, gripped with fear.
"That raccoon was back today. And this time he didn't run when i yelled at him. Tarek was in his baby pool and that coon came right up and got a drink while he was in there. So I snatched him up and we spent the rest of the day inside."
Generally speaking raccoons are nocturnal. For one to venture out into the bright hot August sun something had to be wrong. "Did it look sick?" I asked.
Jennifer nodded. "It was missing a bunch of fur and it limped like it could barley walk."
"Probably has rabies," I said. "I'll see if I can lure it out from under the house and shoot it with my .22."
So i got a can of peaches and sat them where I could hide but still have a good clear shot.
I didn't have to wait long before out crawled the mangiest looking coon I'd ever seen.
I took aim ... and pow!
The wounded raccoon scurried off toward the woods behind out house. The sick animal did not go far before the life seeped out of it. I picked up the peaches and went to go put my gun away.
I no more than walked into the living room when Jennifer began sobbing uncontrollably. I tried to decipher her wails but couldn't. finally she pointed out the window. There not a few feet from where I'd shot the big nasty looking raccoon was four cute and cuddly fur balls. Baby raccoons. Obviously looking for their mother.
That raccoon wasn't sick. It was mangy because it just had babies," my wife cried. "And I told you to get rid of it. What if someone looked at me with my swollen ankles and big belly and thought I was sick?"
I tired to reason with her but distraught pregnant women are not the most rationale of people and in her eyes we were momma killers. Which I guess technically we were, but we didn't set out to orphanize those critters. We thought we were putting a sick animal out of its misery and protecting our son who spent a lot fo time outside where this raccoon kept showing up.
Our nephew came over and crawled under the house and eventually caught all of the babies which we took to a local vet. Zalen the child Jennifer was pregnant with will turn eight a week from now and I can't help but wonder of those four baby raccoons turned out be half as ornery as he is.