Of dead raccoons and kings

All right all of you armchair analysts out there- get ready! Today we discuss my veddy veddy strange dream.

I was being driven to my Dad's house (the one I grew up in, not the one he lives in now). It is early morning. We drive by a house with a large black bear in the front yard eating garbage. I point it out to the driver and we continue. The next house has a mother springer spaniel with puppies sleeping on a concrete slab.

Then horror of horrors we arrive at Dad's house. There are piles and piles of dead and bloated raccoon corpses in the yard. We turn the corner and the piles are stretched all along the corner lot. I am not pleased. There is no smell, thankfully- but there seems to have been raccoonamageddon. Some kind of infestation? I have to go in- she stops the car. The mailbox is overflowing with CDs that my Step-mother has ordered. I take an armful of them and go towards the house.

Disturbing, yes. Monday morning with raccoons? Please. Did I eat anything odd before retiring for the night? Only half of a piece of chocolate cake (yes, it was delicious, thank you.). Did I imbibe- not on a school night. Well. Any suggestions would be appreciated. And, yes, I like raccoons. They are cute- not cuddly- and yes, they are vermin- but I tend to be among the let them live folk. I've never shot one. And I avert my gaze when I see them dead on the highway.