Come On, Just Open The Door And Let Me In This Once

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Come On, Just Open The Door And Let Me In This Once

Hey, you! You in the window with the coffee and the flannel sweater! I see you in there, all cozy in your big warm house. It’s been pretty cold out here lately, what with fall turning into winter and everything, so how’s about maybe opening the front door a crack, just this once, and letting me in? C’mon, man. Help a raccoon out?

Consider it a one-time favor between friends. I’ll never ask again, honest.

Okay, I don’t see a door opening. What gives? Seriously, not even for a second? Come on, I won’t make a big mess. Look at my face! It’s like I’ve got a little bandit mask on. How adorable is that? And I’m sitting here on my hind legs asking politely. What kind of raccoon does that? One you’d want to let inside your house, that’s who.

Honestly, what’s the worst that could happen? I’ll just come on in, run around a little bit, rustle through your garbage. No biggie. Maybe I’ll check out your cabinets. You guys don’t have any food in there, do you? Not that I’m obsessed with food or anything, so no worries either way.

See how my paws look like tiny little hands? I’m absolutely precious. Just let me in.

You may not know it from the look of me, but I’m actually a very clean raccoon. I’m definitely the kind you’d want in your home. Just ask my friends. Incidentally, they’ll be stopping by later if that’s cool. They can crash in the pantry or wherever. Seriously, they won’t mind. We’ll figure something out that works for everyone.

Just imagine waking up in the morning with a couple of sweet, fuzzy raccoons in your kitchen. One might bear the stench of a recent fight with a skunk, but no big deal. We stare at you, you stare at us. We make some of those cool chattering sounds. It’ll be a beautiful moment, and you’ll feel truly close to nature.

Listen, I know why you’re still keeping the door closed, okay? I get it. It’s light out, and you’ve been told that when you see a raccoon in the daytime, it usually has rabies. Let me assure you that’s nothing more than a crude stereotype. Sure, I have a touch of rabies, but who doesn’t? I’m not foaming at the mouth or anything weird like that. And admit it, if I bit you it might even be kinda cute—my teeny mouth teething playfully at your wrist.

Not that I’d ever bite you. Okay, maybe I’d bite you. Would it be a total deal-breaker if I bit you? You know what, forget I ever mentioned the whole rabies, biting thing.

Wait a second, are you eyeing that possum over there? Are you serious? I’m sitting here like a chump pouring my heart out, and you’re thinking about opening the door for a fucking possum? If you give that guy the green light, I guarantee he flies in like a goddamn savage and shits all over your living room.

Not that I wouldn’t, too, if given the chance, but that’s obviously different. I’m furry and cuddly, but have you actually seen a possum up close? They’re hideous, rat-faced things. The choice is yours, obviously, but I don’t think you want to wake up tomorrow with a possum hissing in your face.

Let me make this simple: Open the door, I’ll come in, I’ll make a bunch of cute pitter-patter sounds, I’ll root around for a while—and then I’m out. Let’s just get this over with.

Nothing doing, huh?

Fine, fuck it, we’ll do it my way. I’m crawling down your chimney.


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