My Pet Albino Raccoon, Sylvester

December 22, 2011

Sylvester on the back-end of a real nasty crystal run.

Sylvester, sitting in the living room, watching old Sally Jesse Raphael episodes on VHS.

Sylvester, dragging his balls through the Jello salad.

Sylvester, running up like eight hundred bucks in phone sex charges.

Sylvester, smoking up all my weed while I’m at work.

Sylvester, prank-calling my ex-girlfriends.

Sylvester, drinking too much and refusing to take a cab.

Sylvester, being shady down on the corner.

Sylvester, doing hoodrat things.

Sylvester, reminding me daily that his albinism is a disability.

Sylvester, relapsing on crystal.

Sylvester, being racially inappropriate. Again.

Sylvester, dragging his balls across my roommate’s face while she’s sleeping. Again.

Sylvester, being mistaken for an opossum. Again.

Sylvester, taking umbrage.

Sylvester, brandishing a BB pistol, referring to it as his “strap” and asking who wants to “get got at with his nina”.

Sylvester, stating that he “ain’t no punk ass ‘possum.”

Sylvester, threatening to “get to clappin””.

Sylvester, being 98% talk.

Sylvester, sulling up and refusing to speak for days.

Sylvester, watching old Morton Downey Jr. episodes.

Sylvester, peeping on the lady next door while she nude sunbathes.

Sylvester, pulling the old “banana in the tailpipe” trick on the high school jock kid across the street.

Sylvester, pissing himself with laughter while the high school jock kid across the street kicks his ratty Mustang when it won’t start.

Sylvester, busking downtown with a tambourine and a couple of half-remembered Bob Dylan songs.

Sylvester, tone-deaf, singing completely out of tune.

Sylvester, thinking he’s hot shit.

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