Mel tries to go to work, and this fuzzy prick was sitting on the porch, barring her way. Then Charlie the cat tries to run outside (Like he does) and asshole raccoon yells at him.
Charlie ran back inside.
Mel ran back inside.
John has to get out of fuckin' bed and discuss the issue with Mr. Asshole Raccoon.
Mr. Asshole Raccoon is both truculent and obstinate. Yelling at him doesn't work. ("Fuck off, raccoon!" was particularly ineffective.) Using a utility reacher to grab and shove him makes him hiss and bat at it. Thankfully I know the M.O. of these pricks, so I just flip the lights on by the front door and shine a flashlight in his face from the window. Apparently flashlights are more annoying than a poke with a metal rod, and he waddles off.
I go back and lay down, hero of the morning. I even got extra hugs and a kiss in spite of morning breath for defeating the beast.
Mel tries to leave, and the fucker is back, sitting on the first stair. I hear "YOU ASSHOLE! IMMA SHOOT YOU!" from outside.
Time to get up again.
I got a bucket and filled it with very warm water. On impulse and out of spite I snatched a red Kool Aid packet and dumped it into the bucket, too. (I was pissed)
Mr. Asshole Raccoon is no longer dry, and has taken on a pinkish hue. He also left. The funniest thing is that he used the front walk. He hopped down the stairs, walked along the gravel walk, and walked right down the driveway. Then he looked both ways and crossed the road, into the woods.
Raccoons are assholes.