So last week, we were sitting in the living room after dark, all the doors were open to let in the (then) cool breezes, and I kept hearing these clanging noises. I went and looked outside and didn’t see anything. The next morning, I discovered a mad trail of greasy raccoon footprints all over our deck…apparently a coon had gotten into a pot of grease that Jason had fried something in that he had left on the back porch.
So, the next night. Jason sets out the 12 gauge (??!!??) for the coon in the kitchen. I’m sound asleep. At 4:24am, I wake up to hear Jason saying, “Is that just wind or rain?”. I mumble something, and he jumps out of bed, crying, “It’s rain, it’s rain! I have tools in the back of my truck that CANNOT get wet!” As he is running into the kitchen, I’m trying to find my glasses and the floor, and he comes running back into our room, whispering loudly, “It’s the coon! I’m gonna make some noise.” So I tell him NO, don’t shoot the coon, because it’ll be back and we’re in a Godawful rush as it is.
We get the truck moved into the shed after a 5 minute, 3 car frantic game of Musical Cars, and we manage to get everything put away. Then, our youngest comes into our room, so I go and fall asleep with her. About 30 minutes later, Jason comes up the stairs (now 5:30am) and whispers loudly, “The coon’s back! Do you wanna see it?” “NO”, I say,”I just wanna sleep.” The next morning, he makes a huge circle with his arms. “That coon was THIS big!”, he says. So, I name the coon “Cartman”, after the little Butterball, Eric Cartman, on South Park. Cartman had managed to completely rip the plastic door off of the dog food container and throw it to the ground, as well as eat about 1/4 of our dog food. The NEXT night. Saturday night…..
We now have a .22. No more 12 gauge cannons for Cartman. We set up the gun, a little dog food on the deck, and we wait. As expected, here comes a coon, but not Cartman. No, now we have yet ANOTHER coon to contend with. I fling open the back door, and POP POP POP POP, 4 shots……………………………………………uh, no hits. Coon #2 runs off to the safety of the UNDERSIDE OF OUR HOUSE. Sigh. Now we know there are at least 2 coons living right underneath us. Great.
We set up again. We leave all of the lights off and I decide to crack our kitchen window, overlooking the deck, and stick the barrel of the gun out the window. I get a snack and I am munching away, when suddenly something dawns on me: It’s a Saturday night, I have a Moon Pie in my hand, and I’m shooting wildlife from the comfort of my own kitchen.
Yes, we have officially arrived to Redneckia.
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