Monday, June 4, 2012

'Coon huntin'

Ya, I put an appropriate picture here so no one would get the wrong idea about this post.  I've been hanging out with red necks too long on this boat.  Raccoons are 'coons.  I don't have a problem with that.  And when you're hunting them, it's one thousand percent 'coon huntin'.  Not raccoon hunting.

So I was doing night watch the other night.  Mighta been last night.  Time does not have the cyclical relevance on the boat that the real world offers.  It's just a dull grey line.  My timeline is bedazzled with sparkles and other fun stuff like pianos, but in terms of monotony and no TGIF?  Dull grey line.  Anyway, I heard a ruckus out on the trawl deck and sprang to action.  I saw Joe all excited, "Dude!  That effing raccoon is out here!"  And he was running wildly with a snow shovel trying to get at this thing. 

I said, "Joe, I need a weapon."  He didn't respond.  So I started grabbing pipes from the scrap pile and they were all like eight feet long.  Not really good for swinging at an agile little bastard like this raccoon.  So I was nimbly moving about with one eye out for the 'coon and another out for a suitable weapon.  Then I saw it.  It musta been like when little Arthur saw the sword in the stone, just gleaming and calling to him. 

What I spied, my friends, was the fisherman's version of a ball and chain.  Only it was line and a shackle.  But with a twist.  It had one big shackle tied to two pieces of line and each of these were attached to their respective smaller hooks.  I was like Will Ferrell in Step Brothers coming up with all kinds of irrational positive attributes for making bunk beds.  Only I was getting all worked up about the utility of some steel tied to a rope.  Just doing crude combat moves, 'see?  If I want a quick strike, I just swing one of the smaller hooks.  But for the coup de grace I have the large shackle.'  It would have been sad if I were being serious.

I was kinda trying to keep the whole Road Warrior vibe going, like a Mad Max thing.  I heard in my head, "CHOOSE YOUR WEAPON!"  And that little prick Joe didn't even bat an eye.  Acted like it was the most natural thing in the world for me to be trudging around the boat, dragging what amounted to a ball and chain while hunting a raccoon.  I guess those good 'ol boys have a bit more creativity when it comes to some 'coon huntin'.

You know, I'm always looking for the laugh.  I'm not a hard man.  I don't particularly like raccoons.  But I don't have an insatiable blood lust for them either.  I'm just as satisfied to just scare him off.  Friggin Joe wanted to stomp kick, double leg drop kick, skin, and eat this thing raw.  Not even when I was breathing heavy like Igor did he notice or care.  When I brought it up, I said "Joe.  Man I was kinda looking for more of a reaction out of you when I grabbed that improvised weapon."  He said, "Ya.  I saw that.  Pretty good."  Thanks bud. 

The 'coon hunt' is over for now.  Maybe we'll see him again and get more of a tactical approach to this little vermin's demise.  But I guess it was fun just chasing him around the boat for a bit.

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