“Dey kame at dawn.” The old raccoon recounted his voice gratey and worn. His eyes squinting in the glow of the burning trash.

“Who, who ?”The little raccoons gathered round anticipating the old codger’s tale.

” Huuumans.” he replied streching out the last word for dramatic effect. “Dem dey call Bialogests”

Grabbing an old rind, he began to spin his yarn.

“Won night wen, I wuz lookin fo’ a bite, I coms akross an itty bitty hole. I smell da sweeetest smell I’d never done smelled.”

“I sez to myself, dinna’ time, an’ in goed I. “

“Snaaap, wen da cage, an’ I wuz as stuck as possum in da trash compact.”

“Den dey came wid der lights, an’ big ship. Dey janked dat hole wid me in it an off we goed to der space.”

“I bite,growl. Dem biaologests dey grab me wid a funny stick. Den dey stick me wid a sharp sting.

“I be dinking, dat I ‘bout to be dinna’, but den I don’ care.”
Canna move, but don’ care. I’z so happy. Poked me prodded me, no mind.”

Den, I woke up an’ I home.”