Wednesday, September 28, 2011
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
Near the end of summer, we decided to go camping. The trip had been planned for months, and seemed like a good idea when we planned it. But when the time came, the state was suffering from a severe drought, and the once lush dreamland we intended to visit was reduced to a few buckets of brackish water.
So we arrived, late in the day, and kind of mucked about until it was time to sleep. By this time, we had already decided to leave the next day. However, we were adamant that we would stay for one night.
That night we camped, good and hard. My parents and sister slept in the van, and my brother, cousin, and I slept in the tent. In theory.
The night was freakishly hot, as Oklahoma in a drought is wont to be. I opted to sleep out under the stars, to try to remain cool. It was difficult, but eventually I slept.
Later that night I was awoken by the frenzied whispering of my cousin. "Hey! Go away! Hey! Go!"
I rolled over and told him, in a polite and loving manner, to shut up.
It was then that he revealed the reason for this whispering-- a raccoon was snuffling around outside on the edges of camp.
I rolled back and beheld the beast, lit by the purplish LED of a flashlight, a -snufflin' and a -shufflin'. I watched for a few minutes, observing the creature's blatant disregard of my cousin's injunction to flee.
Finally, desiring sleep and a respite from the threat of rabies, I took matters into my own hand.
Popping up from the sleeping bag, I hissed at the sucker and, wouldn't you know it, the critter done ran.
And that was the last we saw of the Raccoon of Doom....