Normally, an unmarried middle-aged man wouldn’t choose a semi-domesticated raccoon for a best friend. But I know one who did, my Uncle Unky.
They are very close. The family has concerns, and some questions, but who are we, and who are any of us, to judge the happy choices of a man not entirely well, or normal.
A NICE OUTING
One day, Unky and Chunky decided to have a picnic. They filled an old Piggly Wiggly grocery bag with some left overs and out they went. Unky was careful to set the door lock, which is just a bungee cord attached to the knob and hooked into the Frog’s Mouth Mail Box duct taped to the trailer. Unky loves that mail box! He got it one night on the home shopping network while washing his socks in the sink.
Well, back to the picnic. They walked down to the field next to the Doofus County Landfill, its close to home and offers a nice view. He enjoys sniffing and clawing around in the filth and Chunky really enjoys the garbage. So it’s a fav.
Anyway, there they were, all spread out on the painting-tarp picnic blanket, enjoying some leftover Lima bean salad and boiled ham when out of no where came a group of raucous raccoons.
Apparently, the angry horde had recently claimed the field for themselves and didn’t appreciate odd people picnicking without permission. Chunky got his dander up and before you could count to two, there was a tussle the likes of which Unky had never seen, or wanted too.
Those feisty critters were sneering and snarling and sneering some more and making all kinds of menacing sounds. Little tufts of grey and black fur just flew through the air. It was a sight. It went on and on and seemed like it would never end. But after a minute it did.
One of the values of having a semi-domesticated raccoon is his ability to handle complex machinery. Turns out Chunky was quite the heavy equipment operator.
Before Uncle Unky could yell, “Careful Dude,” Chunky had buried those interlopers under three feet of sticky-stinky garbage. They eventually wormed their way out, but they won’t soon be back. They ran like scalded dogs. Or worse.
Well, after the Raccoon Rumble, Unky and Chunky were all stressed out. They folded their paint-tarp picnic blanket, tossed their picnic bag on the landfill and headed back.
In their euphoric bliss at getting home they forgot to unhook the bungee form the Frog’s Mouth Mail Box. The door came slamming back on Uncle Unky and smacked him right in the back of his front. He couldn’t do much for a few days, you know, with being confined to his inflatable donut. (Home Shopping Network)
TO CLOSE: ALL’S WELL THAT ENDS WELL
It was a good day to get some fresh air and share a fun adventure!
Until next time…..