One day, during second period World Cultures class, I looked out the window and saw this small animal all curled up against the building. It was light gray and in a tight ball, so I couldn’t tell what it was, but it was rocking and shivering oddly so I knew something was wrong with it. I notified the teacher that I thought it might have rabies, and he nodded. It turns out that it hadn’t been taken care of, and when I walked into my seventh period class which happened to be only one room over, there was a foaming, snarling, walking-like-a-drunk-guy-on-crack raccoon. The teacher for this period is, of course, Mr. Graff for senior English and he promptly contacted the office about this, since there were stupid kids outside trying to poke the thing with sticks.

What happened afterwards was along the lines of this:

The school called the police and a cop was sent. He marched outside like Barney from the Andy Griffith Show and pointed his gun at the raccoon. The raccoon just tilted its head at the gun that was only two feet away from its face and just about fell over…the cop fired…and the raccoon just kept trying to get a better look at the gun. The cop blinked and turned, and walked back in.

The Principal stopped him and asked why he didn’t kill the raccoon.

“I did!” the cop said.

“You did not…it’s still stumbling all over the place out there!”

“But there’s no way I could have missed; it must have gone right through it.”

“There was no blood, you ass!”

And the cop left.

Seeing that there was still a problem with the rabid raccoon, one of our teachers took it upon him self to fix things. Mr. Drago, the biology teacher, and one of the biggest pot heads I know grabbed an oar that a wood shop student was making, ran outside, and proceeded to chase the poor beastie all over the school yard, smacking it with the flat end of the oar when ever he could…

Now just stop and picture this, folks. Outside a high school, an old, balding man who looks as though he should be home with his gravity bong chasing around a limping, foaming raccoon with a half-finished oar, trying to beat the shit out of it.

Eventually the oar and the hippy teacher won, and he proceeded in disposing of the infected oar, much to the wood shop student’s dismay. And rumor has it that Mr. Drago went in, collapsed into a chair in the teacher’s lounge, and ate jelly donuts.

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