Fuck you, raccoon!!

I meant to write this last night, but I was too tired by the time the issue arose.

I mentioned a couple times that I’m currently living in the suburbs. Long Island. Remember, yes? Great. Well… here on Long Island, or at least in this particular neighbourhood, we have a shitload of raccoons. And it would appear that our house is home to the greatest, most delicious garbage in all the land. Because these goddamn raccoons stop by to eat sometimes. Okay, not sometimes. EVERY. FUCKING. NIGHT.

First time I heard one, it scared the piss out of me. I was smoking a cigarette on the front porch at about 1am, completely sleep-eyed, barely cognizant. I heard a scratching sound and then saw a garbage can fall over in my peripheral vision. I ran inside like a nervous five year old. Next morning, the garbage bags were torn apart. Food scraps strewn across the driveway. FUCK.

Anyway, long story short, these raccoons are torturing me. They do this shit every night now. And so every day, I’m out in the driveway with a broom and a shovel, cleaning up the goddamn garbage.

Now. I’m not usually mean-spirited toward anything other than humans. I try not to step on flowers because I don’t want to feel like a murderer, dig? I care about the environment around me. But. I am ready to chop these raccoons up with a fucking axe! No, I would never. But they have to die. Or maybe I can kill just one of them, maybe that would be enough to send the message along?

Is there some kind of raccoon poison that I can put in the cans? Some kind of delaying poison that won’t kill it immediately right there in our driveway? Maybe the little jerk can slither back to its family and then die in front of its children?

I’m serious, man. No more raccoons. I can’t take this shit. So please, internet, help me. Offer me solutions. Offer me alternatives. Before I become a serial killer, feared by raccoon communities all across the land.

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About R. Spacely

Bastard.
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