It's a strange world. And jumpy bags don't help.

Link Letters

Link has had half a dozen encounters with raccoons, none of them catastrophic. This one was memorable, however.

I Scare a Raccoom

Dear Eyeliner,

You probably don't know about raccooms. They are like squirrels but too fat to run. When they run away, they look like they are falling down a hill, but they fall down pretty fast. Raccooms are not nice. Like last week we were walking, and we walked along a sidewalk where we like to walk and we were just walking a long and smelling the dog poop and looking at the bad dogs yelling at us and THEN I SAW IT!!!!

There was a raccoom under the truck! I didn't know they lived under trucks. I thought they lived in the street holes where the water goes away but there he was under the truck and I tried to get under to see better and my Dad tried to talk me out of it but I was pretty busy.

And the raccoom was so rude! Man! He started yelling at me in a squeaky voice and yelling and yelling. "You made me wet myself!" I can't type a squeaky voice, but I bet you imagine. He was yelling about my momma and calling me names and trying to be scary and I got really incensed (that means so mad you smell funny). So I'm trying to drag my dad under the truck, and my dad is being really logical and not moving and the raccoom!

"You momma licked cats. Come on, bone breath! Get over here where I can reach you! We know where you live, puppy brain! Issat a tongue in you mouth, or you just happy to see me!"

It didn't make any sense, but I knew he was being bad, especially about my momma, so I kept trying to get in and he kept screeching. It was like a howly car only smaller. And my dad is bigger, so he dragged me out and dragged me down the block and the raccoom was still screeching. "You fatask dog! You stay out of my truck or I take you apart! Run! That's right, you run! Run away! You dogs is all chicken ships!"

I begged my dad to let me go clean his clop, but no, we gotta be civilized. So we are walking, with me leaning a little toward the raccoom and he's still screeching and we're like five houses away and I can barely smell him and not see. But he's still yelling like one of those things like dogs, my dad says they are chawallas and pomorons, that run at us and make squeaky mean noises like barking and are smaller than squirrels except the pomorons look like they licked a lectricity. But anyway, he's still screeching.

"I tell my brother what you done, and we gonna come decorate your yard! We clean you yard good. You wait, you hairy some bit, we see you again, man! You made me wet myself, and I got nowhere to wash my hands! Man! We comin' for you, man!"

We could still hear him when we were so far away we couldn't even see his truck. After I got my dad to bed, I slept listening outside. I guess they forgot to come and get me. And nobody cleaned up the yard, but that fox took a bone. Again!! She's nice but I wish she would ask. I got my dad to walk by the truck the next night, but the raccoom must of had a date or something. Maybe he was looking for his brother. Anyway, we walked by more and more, and no raccoom. Maybe he moved to Canada. My dad lived there and they have raccooms but they are nice.

I like squirrels even if I had a accident, and I like bunnies and ducks and cats and stuff. Raccooms are mean. At least our raccooms are, I don't know about Canada. They come to my yard, we'll see who's a hairy some bit. I'm gonna bit him and his brother so hard, they have to sleep standing up.

Your fiend,


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