Don’t f*ck with the duck.

I am able to say with certainty that I don’t often use the word ‘hate’.  I can only claim to have touched death’s doorstep twice in my lifetime.  Both times were near drownings.  I for the most part do not wish anything or anyone harm or for misfortune to befall them.  I hate raccoons and, one in particular, I will go out of my way to help as best I can for the mortal coil to be shuffled off.  I might drown this particular one.  You see, there are certain things that just shouldn’t happen in this world.  I am nothing amazing, but I aim to find out if I can create a hat out of his hide.  Of course I would never wear it.  That might be a bit too morbid.  Perhaps I’ll wear it on the second of June next year.  Perhaps I will recruit an angry mob with pitchforks and inspirational music.  Mr. Duck you are missed and loved.  Mr. Raccoon you are living on borrowed time.  Enjoy it while it lasts.

About SIDEWAYS EIGHT

Being heard, stirred, and perhaps cured by life's many hidden images and the written-spoken word.
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