Blame it on childhood trauma or a Freudian mishap, either way I have never gotten along with raccoons. Maybe it was because their thick black eyes are eerily similar to a psycho ex-girlfriend who fancied buffing her own in that same stupid way.
Getting rid of these pests involved careful crafting. I took my newly bought waffle cones, biscuits, cake and crisps and laid them in a consecutive row trailing into a dustbin. There, I hacked a roasted chicken and pegged them into the ground. I blasted some whip cream over the top for good measure.
Taking a sip of my beer, I stood back and marveled my work. It was beautiful. Nothing, man or animal, could resist this bait of epic proportions.
I grabbed my shovel and hid, waiting for the bastards to come my way.
VISUAL:
(Photo courtesy of http://www.sxc.hu)
No comments:
Post a Comment