Get the fuck off of my house! Stay the fuck away from my kids' bedroom windows! Next time, you won't just get hit with the hose (can't wait to see if any of the neighbors ask why I was hosing off my roof at midnight on a Thursday...)!

Thank goodness my kids never saw this fucker. "No kids, there's nothing scratching at your window. It's probably just the wind......or a 40 pound fucking raccoon. Sleep tight!"

I rarely troll.

Our hotel smelled like dead hooker vagina (before you ask I had gotten a detailed description from beardown)

So I'm trying to fall asleep when [my son] starts screaming. It's 11:40pm. I go into his room to comfort him (nightmare) and finally get him settled down. I'm tucking him in when something catches my eye out his northern window. A shadow......that seems to be moving. I get him tucked in, but don't really want to go to the window to investigate as it'll just wake him up completely. I leave the room. I decide to go to [my daughter's] room to see what I can see from her window... (now look at the pictures)


Big. Fucking. Raccoon. I would say about the size of.....a bulldog (not exaggerating), lounging on the porch roof. I grab the camera to get some evidence. The noise I'm making seems to make Tubby more curious than anything as he heads over to [my daughter's] window (pictures with a flash, through a window do not turn out). I start to crack open the window (not enough to let it in) to try to get a better pic and it bolts (ok, more like lumbers) over to the pine tree in the corner. Mission accomplished. Fat Ass off our roof. End of story, right?

Wrong. I was deciding if I should go out and get it with the hose, just for good measure. For whatever reason, I go back into [my daughter's] room for a last check and Blubberbutt is right back on his perch. At this point, I'm thinking he might be stuck on the roof as his very large self must not be able to navigate his way down a tree. Not really wanting to go outside, I grab the next logical weapon....the ironing spray bottle. I go into [my son's] room for a better shot and while trying to crack open his window, I hear "Dad? Dad? What are you doing?" With a camera in one hand and a spray bottle in the other, I turn, tuck him in and say that I just had to make sure that um...the tree was alright. Nothing to see here.

I get out, quite satisfied that I just put one over on a 4 1/2 year old, and return to [my daughter's] room. Fatty is still out there. I get the window cracked and let him have it. I think he actually shrieked a little and scampered to the tree for a "fast" getaway. I watched as he s l o w l y worked his way down the tree.

And, I just now went to check, and he is gone. I have successfully defended our home from a vicious, over-weight invader.

Good night.

I smell a bit....

Hey, you! You in the window with the coffee and the flannel sweater! I see you in there, all cozy in your big warm house. It’s been pretty cold out here lately, what with fall turning into winter and everything, so how’s about maybe opening the front door a crack, just this once, and letting me in? C’mon, man. Help a raccoon out?

Consider it a one-time favor between friends. I’ll never ask again, honest.

Okay, I don’t see a door opening. What gives? Seriously, not even for a second? Come on, I won’t make a big mess. Look at my face! It’s like I’ve got a little bandit mask on. How adorable is that? And I’m sitting here on my hind legs asking politely. What kind of raccoon does that? One you’d want to let inside your house, that’s who.

Honestly, what’s the worst that could happen? I’ll just come on in, run around a little bit, rustle through your garbage. No biggie. Maybe I’ll check out your cabinets. You guys don’t have any food in there, do you? Not that I’m obsessed with food or anything, so no worries either way.

See how my paws look like tiny little hands? I’m absolutely precious. Just let me in.

You may not know it from the look of me, but I’m actually a very clean raccoon. I’m definitely the kind you’d want in your home. Just ask my friends. Incidentally, they’ll be stopping by later if that’s cool. They can crash in the pantry or wherever. Seriously, they won’t mind. We’ll figure something out that works for everyone.

Just imagine waking up in the morning with a couple of sweet, fuzzy raccoons in your kitchen. One might bear the stench of a recent fight with a skunk, but no big deal. We stare at you, you stare at us. We make some of those cool chattering sounds. It’ll be a beautiful moment, and you’ll feel truly close to nature.

Listen, I know why you’re still keeping the door closed, okay? I get it. It’s light out, and you’ve been told that when you see a raccoon in the daytime, it usually has rabies. Let me assure you that’s nothing more than a crude stereotype. Sure, I have a touch of rabies, but who doesn’t? I’m not foaming at the mouth or anything weird like that. And admit it, if I bit you it might even be kinda cute—my teeny mouth teething playfully at your wrist.

Not that I’d ever bite you. Okay, maybe I’d bite you. Would it be a total deal-breaker if I bit you? You know what, forget I ever mentioned the whole rabies, biting thing.

Wait a second, are you eyeing that possum over there? Are you serious? I’m sitting here like a chump pouring my heart out, and you’re thinking about opening the door for a fucking possum? If you give that guy the green light, I guarantee he flies in like a goddamn savage and shits all over your living room.

Not that I wouldn’t, too, if given the chance, but that’s obviously different. I’m furry and cuddly, but have you actually seen a possum up close? They’re hideous, rat-faced things. The choice is yours, obviously, but I don’t think you want to wake up tomorrow with a possum hissing in your face.

Let me make this simple: Open the door, I’ll come in, I’ll make a bunch of cute pitter-patter sounds, I’ll root around for a while—and then I’m out. Let’s just get this over with.

Nothing doing, huh?

Fine, fuck it, we’ll do it my way. I’m crawling down your chimney.