For DFW: Raccoon Pandemonium

Imagine a grey haired middle aged bourgeois lobbyist full of wise saws and armed with a red rapid fire Super Soaker Flash Fire who, a day of vexing memos and meetings behind him, is confronting two presumptious raccoons peering in at the living room window from a ripe fig tree while his hysterical pillow-sized pugnacious bichon frise (ft. literally “curly lap dog”) stands on its back feet barking with all its might and, contrary to urbanite animal philosophy, fires away and inundates the raccoons who beat a hasty but tactical retreat and then, since the dog won’t stop barking, considers giving the dog a spout, but backs off, realizing that only Sara Palin and Dick Cheney would take out the raccoons, their own pets, Harry Whittington, the caribou, voters without photo ID and the Iranians, all without regret.