love too be SLANDERED and LIBELED as a rabid fucking animal by members of my own community that I have roamed around in for two-and-a-half years because someone APPARENTLY left out some fucking crabapples gone sour and me and Fred got caught stumbling around all disoriented. you call officers scarberry and withers instead of walk us back to the runoff drain on mason and let us sleep it off? what has happened in america. i haven’t felt this betrayed since reagan closed the state hospital for anorexic chicks.
what is the big deal anyway man. even if we did, and im not even saying we did, eat those prison wine apples on purpose, what fucking business is it of yours if fred and me wanna get a buzz going before the sun comes up after a long night’s work? oh yeah, work. you guys don’t even appreciate all the shit me and fred do and don’t act like this is the first time we’ve run into scarberry and withers. fuck those guys. but you pick up the phone every time you see some glowing eyes in the night and that’s bullshit. like rich people seeing black trick or treaters but year round. you’re all bitches. look at this shit we do for you.
- keep your cats skinny by eating the food they didn’t even eat yet. do you want diabetes cats? fred and me tangled with a diabetic cat before. wrangle that grumpy motherfucker a couple times for his insulin shots and you’ll want your vet to be conrad murray. just doing you and mittens a favor.
- sort your trash! how hard is it to put the plastics in a different bin? fred and me spend most nights just trying to reuse and recycle and maybe find a banana that you didn’t want to finish because it got bruised, and you scare us out of that side yard you let your dog take a shit in before we’re done. that’s why there’s trash all over the place in the morning. i was gonna put it back. in the bin where it was supposed to be. because you don’t know how to sort. fucking idiot.
- literally form anti-coyote gangs to fight coyotes that want to eat your cats and dogs. do you know how many coyotes i have fought with my friends? you think we run away. straight up you don’t know shit about the night. never see you call scarberry and withers on coyotes OH WAIT because you never see them. because we fight them off or you’re too busy sleeping somehow lightly enough to hear me and fred going through your trash. man fuck you.
- not even go through your dog door even though me and fred have poked our heads through and thought about it tbh. it’s a violation of neighborly trust, which is evidently not a two way fucking street.
the other thing that is lame as hell is how many of you are filming raccoons like me and fred a little tipsy and putting it online.
like it’s all fun and games and yeah, let’s have a laugh ha ha ha, he was scavenging for sustenance to survive another day on this hellish planet you’ve squandered the potential of and are rapidly running into the ground by killing of 60% of animal populations in like fifty years but whatever, yeah I’m the asshole. biodiversity who needs it. life is trash. you wonder why fred and me drink or eat prison wine fruits. that’s right. i know the smell. i eat those fruits anyway.
i will have the last laugh. scarberry and withers will boil alive, either in one of your nuclear holocausts or when the sun gets too hot and their brains bake after you can’t grow your trash food anymore. fred and me live in the sewers we will stay cool and venture out at night to eat your faces until equilibrium is restored across the biomes and then the raccoon gangs will form a real society. not like your trash society. where you hit me and fred with brooms because i’m in your garage trying to drink your WD-40.
the unabomber was right.