The Bandit

Raccoon Bandit

Growl at it, snarl at it.

Scare it off; let it know who’s in charge.

That was what I felt I needed to do when I first saw the raccoon.

But what exactly was it doing inside anyway?

And where exactly was I?

It didn’t seem to matter which room I went into, the raccoon found it.

So I growled and snarled.

We faced each other, I wasn’t backing down.

I growled again, louder.

Loud enough that I could feel it.

Loud enough to wake myself up.

And Craig.

Darn you sleep bandit.


5 thoughts on “The Bandit

  1. I wanted to hit the “like” button – but that didn’t seem right! Isn’t it amazing how our dreams can seems so real – and literal. I take comfort in the thought that when I dream, I’m dumping off the garbage.
    Cheers –

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