WhatUpThough


Racoons Ain’t No Punks
March 25, 2008, 4:52 am
Filed under: Uncategorized

 

Real Life Stories From A Substitute Teacher Pt. 1

When I was in High School, the last place I wanted to be during lunch was a classroom. From what I understood it was where over achievers held their stress orgies. Apparently, that’s not the case anymore.

I want to preface this story by saying, I love when kids come to class high. I make sure to look them in the eyes, and dispel any questions in their head whether I “know” or not. That said, I was joined at lunch today by a young man who was blown out of his mind. I’m not sure why he came to a classroom, but nonetheless, I was blessed with some decent conversation.

It started off by talking about hoodies, and then progressed to watches with fake diamonds. We talked about shinning in the summer, and while I’ve technically never worn jewelry that glistened in the sun, he had, so our conversation was equal parts fantasy and reality. As we talked about watches, money came up, and it was revealed that dude raised pits. He had one blue nose, and one red nose. The dogs actually came into conversation as he told me about sitting in the spa and getting food stuck in his grill, and then his grill popping off from the food, and the dogs jumping in the spa after the grill, resulting in him “never wearing that $250 grill again.” I digress.

So he has two pits, breeds them and gets paid. He loves these dogs, and spoke of them very highly. Conversation then moved onto his morning discovery that his pits had attacked some raccoon. The way he described it, he went out to feed the dogs, and one of them wouldn’t move. When he got up to the dog, he noticed that it was laying on a headless raccoon carcass. The dog then got up, revealing a face full of blood. The other dog came around the corner, also with blood on it’s face, hinting at where the head was. I realize now that I never got the kids name, but he talked about taking a shovel and flinging the body and head “somewhere.”

Here, the story took a turn. He went on to tell me how, “raccoons ain’t no punks” and that it was a good chance that his dogs had been bitten somewhere in the mawling of the racoon. He feared that his dogs would have rabies, and would eventually bite his younger sister and brother. Basically, we went from overpriced cubic zirconium watches, to bastardized grills, to pits, to love of pits, to decapitated raccoons, to rabies, to I gotta go to wash the blood off my dogs and take them to the vet.

Not the best, but hopefully enough to crack a smile. All fact.

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