2 22 24 Lester


I heard a bang in the night.

Something was out at the car.

I pulled on the blue fuzzy bathrobe

and grabbed the old walnut

police baton.

My head swam with the white and red

wine of the evening and I felt swollen and gassy from those 

last three pieces of apple cake.

There were thirty-seven of them on top of the car.

I had stopped feeding the racoons since the recession

and now I had a rebellion on my hands.

The one I called Lester had been my first.

He was unusually small and missing his left eye.

He blinked, burped and leaped towards me.

I twirled to the right and batted him into a patch of sorel.

Then they all began to leap.

Two or three of them got a hold of my fuzzy bathrobe.

“Iiiiiii!” I squealed as the claws dug in and I sank down in the driveway.