Last night as I was driving home from Zach's house, a small animal darted out in front of me. I slammed on my breaks thinking it was a cat or dog...only to realize that it was a disgusting, icky, racoon. Back in the day, when my only source of "credible information" was Disney movies, I thought racoons were cute and wished I could see one in real life. That is, until my dad told me the "truth" about them. He may have embellished a little (as he is known for doing), but one thing is for certain. Racoons are mean.
In our surburbanite neighborhood we have a family of racoons that live in the sewer under our curb. You can frequently find them if you venture outside around 11 pm - 12 am. And they are mean. Especially if you come across the "mother" with one of her children. Then, she's just fiesty. At any rate, the racoons in our neighborhood are well known for terrorizing the sissy cats in our neighborhood (who think they are too good for chasing mice and rats). They even raided our Coy pond two summers ago.
Tonight, for a split second, I wished I ran over that racoon. But then, the thought of having racoon blood---yuck---made me change my mind.
Did your parents "embellish" the truth when you were a kid to keep you from doing stupid stuff? ("If you try and get close to one it will bite your hand and give you rabies and you'll die")
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