late friday night. I decided to refuel the old engine by stopping at a late night bar/restaurant.

I go up, place my order, get my cider, sit down and nurse the thing in earnest.

About the time I'm half way done and feeling good, this tall guy with short dark hair and a lanky build comes through the door to the bar. You could instantly tell the guy was piss drunk. His eyes squinted into the light like a coke fiend trying to do one of those "3D pop-out" pictures.

He asked me what the hell I was reading. I held up the psychphysiology book. This confused him even more.

After some more banter, it eventually got around to where I was from, who my folks were, etc. He was fascinated that my father is an illegal importer of animals and flowers.

He started going off about whether I like trapping or not, then if raccoons should be trapped. He then asked if I picked corn or had all wood furniture in my house. Saying I was at college, he persisted with the wood furniture question. He topped it all by saying, one day, he'd breed a new species that was half raccoon, half human.

Around this time my food comes. I start eating lower management, 30 min lunch break style. My cider or no, I wanted the hell out. One thing you never want to do is piss off a pissed local with a glass stein in his hand. He's as liable to proposition you as use your face for a coaster.

I guess I was playing my cards right somehow...maybe it was staring him in the eyes for 3 minutes straight while I sipped my cider...that he decided which I was appropriate for.

His friend came down then. His next question was if I was gay. I said no. His friend seemed marginally disappointed in that way only drunk men who have done such things way too often can be.

Then the kicker...

"So, you ever have sex with a migrant farm worker?" He asked with a smile. It was too non-chalant to be attributed to the booze. His eyes confirmed this. My package and chest were being rended apart, like plastic from the backsides of USDA choice select cutlets.

This man was half raccoon already and wanted to get into my pants something fierce!

Being drunk myself, I said the first thing that came to mind: "nope."

He chuckled softly and said "Yeah, well, me neither." It was shortly after then that both of them decided to exit, using my bottle of cider as a convenient ashtray.

Thus I narrowly escaped unscathed and unviolated, dodging by drunk backwood corn-pickers looking for some city boy corn-hole.

If these are my future sexual prospects, do any of you have a gun I could borrow?

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