Full Hillbilly

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.