I really hope that I can describe this and it will be as
funny as it was in real life.
I was about to go to bed last night when my dad calls to me
from the next room. I walk over to see him staring out the window, with his
binoculars no less, watching some rodents eat the pile of deer feed he had just
put out. “Those stinking varmint are always trying to ruin our lives ya know, eating
all the food so the deer don’t come around. Ridiculous.” We obviously cannot
let the raccoon or woodchuck or whatever it is continue its midnight feast.
Events take a drastic turn.
Next thing I know my dad is slowly, quietly, opening the back
door, gun in hand. Now don’t forget that it is bedtime, so my dad and I are
both in our sleeping apparel. MY DAD IS HOLDING A GUN AND IN HIS BOXERS. This
alone is hilarious.
We are whispering back and forth about the game plan. My mom
is snoring in her bed not 20 feet away. This is the peak of my week. He shoots.
Unidentified mammal runs from feed bucket to safety behind barn. Dad lowers the
gun. Suddenly a second, smaller animal runs form the bucket as well! Panic
ensues! Shots are fired. Said animal falters. Is it dead? No. It runs away
before my dad makes the fatal shot.
Since we are professionals in the department of
nighttimeanimalslaying, we know that it
is time to take a sit break and watch a little bit of The Tonight Show Starring
Jimmy Fallon. Next commercial break we resume our previous activities. The same
way that a criminal always returns to the scene of a crime, one of those
stinkin rodents is back on the feed pile. We wait for its head to be in the
feed bucket so that it can’t see us open the door. More shots are fired. The
thing gets away. Obviously, the bad lighting and moving target are to blame. Another
sit break is needed.
At this point Dad and I are getting tired, but there are too
many unanswered questions. He definitely hit the animal in question. Did the
animal get away or is it dead behind the barn? Where is the second rodent? How
much corn did they eat? Is Papa’s Pizzas and Grinders still open? We knew that
we had to send out the search party.
Naturally, we are the search party. After a mishap with some
crappy batteries, we head outside with the floodlight as our only guide. Still
in our skivvies, we assess the area from the feed bucket to the barn. The
floodlight only floods light for so far, so we are working with some serious
shadows. There appears to be the dark glimmer of blood. More light is needed.
After some confusion with a battery-powered drill, I have the flashlight and
Dad still has the gun. We are ready for anything.
It was definitely blood. We begin to follow the blood trail.
I feel like I have been pretty descriptive throughout this story, but I am going
to reiterate what exactly is happening at this point just to make sure you are following.
My father is in boxers and is holding a loaded rifle. I am in tiny shorts and
an oversized tee hunched over the ground with a flashlight. It is a chilly
night. We aren’t even risking our nipples for a prized buck. IT IS A RACCOON.
No sign of the raccoon. The wind picks up. I had planned to
go to bed hours ago. It is time to call this search off.
Until next time, caballeros.
