Writing Forums

Writing Forums is a privately-owned, community managed writing environment. We provide an unlimited opportunity for writers and poets of all abilities, to share their work and communicate with other writers and creative artists. We offer an experience that is safe, welcoming and friendly, regardless of your level of participation, knowledge or skill. There are several opportunities for writers to exchange tips, engage in discussions about techniques, and grow in your craft. You can also participate in forum competitions that are exciting and helpful in building your skill level. There's so much more for you to explore!

Varmints

The raccoons were in the yard last night. We’d just come home from a long day at the in-laws, lunch, and dinner when Junior heard them through the kitchen window scrambling around in the tree. I shooed him off from shooing them off with his paintball pistol.

Who knows what damage they do in the night? I suspect they may have taken to the fruit…

They look at you; don’t make a noise. You don’t know if they’re going to attack or what. They don’t, just sit up there looking at you as you blast them with the flashlight.

Blast. I shouldn’t have eaten that sausage last night. How was I supposed to know? Now I have blasting powder (not powder; liquid: nitro) inside me. Oh butt-pee, just what I need. Had to do the duck-waddle back to the bathroom as I left for work this morning. I was all the way to the car…

The squirrels are bad this year. I hate killing them--their cute little squirrel-eyes—right before you blast them. I must’ve shot a hundred pellets; only got three of them. I guess it wouldn’t be so bad if we ate them. Even junior wouldn’t, not ground squirrels, scavengers he says… eat anything they find; look all grungy.

Oh well, the vultures got to eat, the coyotes… I throw them out there and they never last long.

Every single pomegranate is now gone. Never even thought about getting an apricot. The guava is full, and I could see them tugging on it. Six fruit trees; four varieties and we never get any fruit…

There’s a limit to my empathy. Son-of-a-bitch, I know they would eat me, my entire family— given the chance. Why mustn’t I kill them? Do the Hindus let all their grain be eaten so they can starve? Rats, for chris-sakes… fluffy-tailed rats with big beady eyes.

Comments

as always full of stuff i enjoy so much..the style of writing really appeals to me....this man gave names to all the animals
 

Blog entry information

Author
Kevin
Views
105
Comments
1
Last update

More entries in Creative Writing 101

Top