“Hello, Bob. Yes; what are you up to these days?… You got a hunting license? And you want to see if Charlie can tree a racoon. I’ve seen him do it. Why don’t you come over and we’ll test him out?”

Alan waited on the front porch. He petted Charlie behind the ears. Everything on the property was unkempt; the yard, the hedge, his hair; it had all gone to seed. Bob drove down the driveway and parked. They were best friends until their wives pulled them apart, but now that problem was cured. Bob walked to the porch. His belly looked like he was having a baby. Whatever restrictions his wife had placed on him were lifted.

“I can see you’re busy,” Bob needled.

“Oh, just thinkin. Lots of projects. Been building a cannon,” Alan said.

“Where do you want to go coon huntin?”

“The golf course, where else?”

“You got a scattergun?”

I’ve got the blunderbuss. We’ll chuck it full of rabbit shot.”

Are you sure your wooden leg will hold up to the hunt?”

“I can run marathons on one of these. It’s not made out of wood.” Alan showed him his composite leg.

“You got any moonshine? If I’m pretending to be young again, I don’t want to do it sober.”

“I’ve got some fresh brew out back. We’ve got chicken feet stew on the stove, if you want some.”

Bob chuckled and then started to howl. His yellow teeth clamped open and shut. His long hair grew on the sides of his shiny bald head. His face was that of a restrained reprobate. “How much time do you think we have left?”

“If God kept us alive this long, he must have a sense of humor. Load your gun in the garage. I’ll be there in just a second.”

Darkness fell on the city, as two lanterns moved across the golf course.

“He’s got the scent.” Bob shined his lantern in the direction of the dog. A terrified golfer was trying to ward it off with a golf club.

“Didn’t pay your green fee, huh.”

The golfer looked at Bob and Alan like they were the hunters from hell.

“Wait… there it goes; the coon!” And Bob unloaded his weapon in the dark. The golfer screamed and ran for it.

“Boy, that pansy filled his pants. What a good time. Did you get the racoon?”

“No; I missed ‘im. I guess I’ll have to go shopping on Black Friday. Do you think they sell coonskin caps?”


4 thoughts on “Midnight Hunt

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