Monday, July 2, 2012

When Your Mom Calls At Five AM Wanting To Borrow A Gun...

... the first question out of your mouth isn't "Why?" But rather, "Which one?"

Well, it is if you're me, anyway.

Yes, life continues to be an amalgamation of the amazing. Some really awesome storms have been ripping through Ohio lately. If you've been following my Twitter feed you know that it's been above 90 degrees as late as 10 PM these days, and you've also seen pics of golf-ball sized hail. The one thing I can't take a picture of is the fact that around 300,000 people in my state do not have power at the moment. Well, I could take a picture but it would be rather... dark.

My parents are among the 300k, but we're resourceful people. You can imagine the same couple that has a backhoe at their disposal also has a generator, so they're doing alright. However, the generator cord isn't quite allowing the back door to shut all the way, and sometime around 4 AM a particularly curious mammal with opposable thumbs figured that out.

So what do you do when there's a raccoon in the kitchen? Call your daughter and borrow her rifle.

It seems pretty straightforward, but raccoons aren't really that excited about being shot at. Plus, Abby (yes, the Scottish Terrier of tunneling under the road fame) had it in her head that *this* was her redeeming moment and was doing her damn-it-all-best to kill the raccoon, which really just meant she was ruining any chance of my dad getting a clean shot.

Oh - and I forgot to mention that he only had one bullet.

And also - the flashlight was going dim because they've been using them constantly.

And yes - that flashlight was my Mag light that I still haven't gotten back after the Abby-Under-the-Road Incident.

One more thing - the person holding the Mag light was my mom, who kept having to scream and run the other way when the raccoon charged her.

It was a glorious, badly-lit circus.

To add to the fun, my parents' St. Bernard (appropriately named Boo, because he's scared of everything) would occasionally stick his head in whatever room the entire escapade had moved to, howl mournfully, and then back out because he didn't feel equal to the situation. Dad says it's just not in his nature to hurt things, and that's a good thing.

My dad is a really big, really nice guy (pretty much just like Boo). He gave the raccoon every chance to make an escape, but once it did find its way back to the screen door it refused to let go of a bag of bread (no, I'm not kidding) that wouldn't squeeze through the crack. So it was time to make use of the one bullet, and unfortunately the raccoon met its bitter end in the bathroom.

Mom says that's OK, because she was tired of the Harvest Gold colored tub anyway.

6 comments:

Amber Clites said...

This is a story waiting to be written! Awesomely hilarious post…I'm in love with it!

Utsav said...

You could make a short story collection out of these. Who would believe this isn't fiction?

A.M.Supinger said...

Holy crap!

Leslie S. Rose said...

Raccoons are mean and tough. Not high on my list of house guests. Great story.

Rena said...

Oh my god, I swear, this is a story from my childhood. How are you living my childhood? (And seriously, that's exactly what my mother would say if my father had shot up the bathtub). I am still laughing.

Mindy McGinnis said...

Amber - thanks so much. Most people don't believe half the stories I tell...

Utsav - EXACTLY! Not fiction, just rural Ohio :)

AM Supinger - Yeah, that was part of the aftermath ; )

Leslie - Honestly, raccoons just kill me. They're adorable. They do adorable things. I fell kinship with them b/c of their hands. But in the end... they're raccoons.

Rena - Where did you grow up? Yes, my sister and I both about died laughing as soon as we heard. 15 years ago Dad was horribly upset b/c a raccoon had attacked our dog (a different Scottish Terrier) in the backyard and REFUSED to leave, even after the gun came out. Dad was so upset, he prophesied - "Pretty soon they'll be coming in the house!"