Over the police/EMS scanner in the ED we hear the following 911 call:
“I need an available unit to respond to 359 Main Street … 359 Main Street … for a report of a black and white raccoon that won’t come out from beneath a bed.”
I thought the same thing that you’re thinking. Black and white raccoon? Ummmm … does it happen to have really bad smelling farts?
We didn’t hear any more chatter over the scanner about the incident, so we were left wondering. Then a police sergeant happened to come to the ED later that night to take a report from a battery victim and we asked the sergeant about the call.
None of the officers on duty wanted to go on the call because they were thinking the same thing everyone else was thinking, and no one wanted to get sprayed in the face or have to Taser a skunk. Eventually one of them went to the scene and cautiously looked under the bed with his flashlight.
The “raccoon” ended up being an old blanket.
The person making the call was a little old lady in her 70’s. After the officer pulled the blanket from under the bed, she kept telling the officer “I’m not crazy, you know. I’m not crazy.” Sorry, ma’am, but when you have to make that statement more than once, it creates a rebuttable presumption that you are indeed crazy.
Thinking that zebras and raccoons can mate and produce a viable offspring that hides under beds … well … um … you all can be the judges.