I want to go to the top of a really tall building, take a leak, finish, zip up, and then have my pee hit the ground. I want my entire pee to be airborne. Man I love beer.
Tuesday, July 05, 2005
The Ozette Raccoon Incident, pt. 6
The next day, the weather cleared somewhat and we were able to spend most of the day out in the open beachcombing and partaking of Banger Sports.
* Quick aside about Bangers and Banger Sports. Banger is a generic term for individuals (usually, but not always, boys) with a prediliction for unstructured outdoor activities, particularly ones that a) break things b) make noise c) possess a strong likelihood of personal injury, or d) all of the above. Banger Sports include, but are not limited to:
- Throwing rocks
- Throwing rocks at each other
- Breaking or chopping limbs from trees
- Hitting things with sticks
- Hitting each other with sticks
- Banging on logs or rocks
- Detonation of fireworks or homemade explosives
- Detonation of fireworks toward each other (i.e. bottle rocket fights)
- Damming creeks
- BB gun fights
In its more advanced stages (i.e. "adulthood") the definition expands to include the use of power implements, heavy machinery, larger explosives, firearms, and vehicles. Bangers are distributed throughout the United States and most regions of the world, but are particularly concentrated in the American Northwest (Alaska, Washington, Oregon, Idaho, Montana, northern California) or anywhere else with lots of woods. No known cure exists, hence the saying "Once a Banger, Always a Banger."
This person was beaten unconscious with a bullkelp club shortly after this picture was taken.
Still faintly paranoid from my earlier encounter with the racoons, I sensed the need to fashion a weapon and used my pocketknife to cut off the thick end of the bullwhip to form a hefty, 2-foot-long shilleleagh.
Meanwhile - the xylophone complete - a fresh idea seized Theo and he disappeared into the shelter, clutching his collapsible fishing rod, muttering to himself, and giggling maniacally. We returned for lunch to find him rooting about in the salal on the edge of the camp yard, accompanied by an odd clattering noise. He sprang from the bushes.
"Check it out! See, the line goes here to the trapâ€" he managed before dissolving into giggles. It was truly inspired and potentially hazardous, the hallmark of any Theo invention. He had fashioned a snare at the end of his fishing line, which led out to a precisely stacked pile of our empty tin cans. The snare was placed at a strategic spot inside one of the messier cans, where a greedy raccoon paw was likely to be exploring.
"When a raccoon gets in there, he's gonna knock over the cans so I know he's there, right? Then when I pull back on the rod the snare will loop up around his paw, and then I got 'im. It'll be like COON FISHIN'!"
Instinctively grasping the brilliance of his plan, I was on board immediately.
"Yeah! And then when you reel 'im in, I'll beat the hell out of the little bastard with this club!" I burst out, brandishing my kelp weapon for emphasis. "The fuckers won't know what hit 'em!"
At the time, it did not occur to me that this was a criminally stupid idea with a very real possibility - assuming "success" - of one or both of us getting mauled by an enraged, potentially rabid raccoon. Remember, this is an animal that is fundamentally similar to the bear, possessing formidable teeth and claws, and known for eviscerating dogs 3 times its size just for fun.
Predictably, there was no attempt to dissuade us.
to be continued
¶ Tuesday, July 05, 2005
