What if a talking raccoon who says he's magical came to your town.
Living in Wackville was like living in a funny farm. The half-witted inhabitants had the sense of an ostrich. They would rather spend their time doing stupid things like holding contests over how long a person could hold their breath or how much a person could eat in ten minutes. They also did not get any kind of religion. It was amazing how they survived at all. One afternoon a man named Esquire sat under a pineapple tree.
“La la la,” he sung to himself while counting the pineapples above him. “thirteen, fourteen , fifteen…oh, hello up there little friend,” he said after spotting a white raccoon in the tree.
The weird colored animal jumped down and looked at Esquire square in the eyes. “Same to you,” it answered him. “I’m Nix. A genetically engineered raccoon from a city called Croger.”
Esquire titled his head and pinched his chin. “Wow, I never heard a raccoon talk so friendly.” He said missing the last part.
“You’re not very smart. How many talking animals have you met?”
“Just one. I talked to a cow before about why chickens have wings if they can’t fly. It happened right after I slipped into my formal underwear and went to sleep.”
Nix easily saw that Esquire was a few straws short of a stack. He could have kindly told him that dreams don’t count; but where would the fun in that be? Nix smiled deviously and noded. “Ah, you had a spiritual experience…u I mean a magical experience in your sleep.”
“Magical! Wow! Are you a magical experience too?”
It was all too easy. Nix could have had all kinds of fun with him. He had an idea. “Yes. Do you want more magic?”
“Yes, I do,” said Esquire.
“If you give me things, I will give you more magic. What things do you at home?”
“Not allot; just a few things that I got from a brother who lives in another city. I have a box full of jewels, some clothes, a TV and a stack of CDs,” he said to Nix. “If I give you my stuff, will the magic take care of me?”
“It will. The only thing you have to do is put your belongings into a big box and send it to this address. When you do the magic will give you whatever you want. Most importantly you’ll know why chickens have wings,” said Nix.
Esquire had to been born from a mule. Now only if everybody else was like this guy he thought.
Esquire ran back to Nix and stopped catching his breath. “Okay Mr. Nix, I packed up all my things and I gave it to the mail driver. I told a few of my friend’s about you and they want your magic too.”
It looked like it was going to be smooth sailing for Nix. These dimwits were like a sign that said “Please, take my things; I’m too stupid to deserve them.”
The next thing he saw was a group of people approach the pineapple tree. How pleasant. I wish I knew about this place before. He thought.
“Are you the magic talking raccoon?” an old man asked.
“Yes I am my friend”
“Come to my house. I have lot of things,” the old man said.
“No! Not him. I have more things at my home” said another citizen.
“Not a chance old man! Raccoon your coming with me!” said a teenager.
The cocky little deceiver found himself in a bit of a scuffle. People started to grab Nix and he was pulled this way and that way like a ball of regretful putty. He ran up the tree as fast as a crook from a cop. The mob began to shake the tree as pineapples fell. One fell on a person who fell over like a bag of potatoes, but no one cared. Then a burly man with a chainsaw came to the tree and began to saw through it. “Wait, wait! I’m not really magic. I made it up!”
It looked like Nix was about to be a furry pancake under a writhing mob. Then Nix felt a small prick in his side and fell to the ground as still as a stick bug.
“The fall killed him!” said the old man.
Before the mob did anything else, a man in a spiffy black suit stepped out of a black sedan. “He’s not dead; just tranquilized, “he said as he approached Nix and removed a dart.
The old man spoke up. “I’m sorry sir but in all fairness, he doesn’t belong to you. This magical raccoon belong to me.”
Before anyone else claimed him, the stranger expalned. “He’s not magical. He’s been biologically engineered to speak and think like a human. He escaped one month ago. ”
“What are you talking about. He has to be magical,” said another citizen.
The citizens of Wackville were clueless. If a person painted in big words ”YOU’VE BEEN HAD” they wouldn't have gotten it.
“I’m with the government and he has to be taken back to the lab in Texas. Honestly folks, he’s not magic.”
“That’s Okay sir, you can have him. You must really need him if you would lie like that,” said the old man finally.
The man in the suit put the defeated rascal in a cage, into the car and drove off; and they never saw them again.