I was mowing the lawn on my tractor when a raccoon jumped out from a line of trees. Luckily I stopped in time. The raccoon waddled to the side and I continued on. I was amazed to find the raccoon keeping pace with the tractor.
I decided to name the raccoon Bandit. It’s not the most original name but riding around the lawn doesn’t lend itself to creativity.
“Where do you live?” I asked. Bandit didn’t answer. Raccoons don’t talk but you knew that, didn’t you. That didn’t stop me from having a conversation with him.
“Are you married?” By the look on his face, I could tell he wasn’t the kind that settles down. He was a wild one.
After I finished mowing, I fetched a peanut from the kitchen and offered it to Bandit. Bandit was leery of me at first but he decided a peanut was worth the risk. I told you he was wild. He stretched his little hand and took the peanut. He was about to go on his way but quickly came back and bit my hand. He’s a wild son of a bitch.
The next week, Bandit came back. We mowed the grass together. Time passes faster when you have someone to talk to. I haven’t had someone to talk to since my wife and son went away.
This time I was prepared for Bandit. After we finished, I reached into my pocket and pulled out a peanut. I learned my lesson and I dropped the peanut on the grass. When Bandit reached for the nut, I pulled out a gun and put a bullet in his head.
It wasn’t a sad thing. I brought him inside and I had someone to talk to everyday that week. Unfortunately, Bandit started to get a smell to him. I tried to put up with it as long as I could—he was great to talk to—but eventually he had to go away.
I put him in the deep freezer. It wasn’t a sad thing. He has my wife and son to talk to.
© 2015 by John H. Stevens.
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