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Holy Crap!

So a couple of days ago I go outside with the trash--it's like 5:30 PM--and I open the big green trash container to throw the bag in and HOLY CRAP: RACCOON!!

He's in there, looking up at me, holding a food container, with a "Hey, I was here first!" look on his face. I ... stuff the bag in and leap back. I do not want to be attacked by a raccoon! But then I'm all "He's gonna die in there--it's steep, slick, and deep ..."

So I back away. I resolve to let him out in the morning--my plan is to tip over the container and then, if he doesn't bolt, lift the lid with a wooden poll. I figure with my martial arts prowess, if the raccoon charges I can defend myself with the stick ... or maybe I should get the .40 out of my office ... FEAR RABIES (note: I don' think there are any documented cases of people getting rabies from raccoon but you never know and anyway, I'd probably get like a disfiguring facial scar if the fucker attacked me. In any event, I am ridiculously scared of it for no good reason).

But then, a couple hours later, I decide I'll look. Sure, he might jump out like one of those spring-loaded snakes in the "can of mixed nuts," clinging to my face like the Alien--but he might also be on his last legs in there.

I peer in. That parkour motherfucker was gone. Sometime in the night he took my trash and left