The raccoons are going a little nutty in our neighborhood. It must be Spring Fever. Besides looking for good take out from our garbage, they like to pound away at the cans and lids like they're some kind of a rock band.
P.J. offered to sleep over to stand watch and, as he put it, "Run those Yankee raccoons back to the woods they came from!" I've stopped reminding him that he's from New Jersey.
He thinks he's pretty cool with his single shot cap gun. It is kinda neat and loud, but he's never seen my cap gun. Mom doesn't like guns and she only lets me play with it when my Uncle Jake comes over. He gave me the gun.
Uncle Jake is Mom's brother and he doesn't think there's anything wrong with cap guns. He and Mom disagree on a lot of stuff like that. Dad just stays out of it - I get the feeling he thinks Uncle Jake is cool, too.
Anyway, it's a sort of machine cap gun and it blows off about 50 caps a second. So if P.J. decides he's going to start some kind of uprising, I'm pretty sure I can handle it.