Coons, guns, underwear...

Fox news wasn't on... because it was 1:30 in the morning. Have you ever had an experience where you are woken out of a deep sleep, and you're clinging to the sides of your mattress like you're about to fall over Niagara Falls because something you don't often hear scares the bejesus out of you? Yeah, that was me at 1:30 in the morning due to a gunshot right outside of my window. I slid out of bed and quickly put my red Hugh Hefner robe on. Gun shot! I slammed against a wall, like I was hiding or something...nice. I got to the floor, and crawled to the stairs. As I was slinking up the stairs to look out the front window, I somehow knew this wasn't a dangerous situation. I mean, my grandpa keeps at least one gun within reach of his bed, and the shots were outside, so I wasn't worried about being murdered, but I certainly was nervous. I get to the point on the stairs where I can see out the window, and low and behold, there's my grandpa, in his whitey-tighties, with his rifle. Gun shot! I flinched, mainly because of the sound. Now I wasn't worried at all, I was just pissed. I jump up, storm through the front door, out onto the front walkway, "Grandpa! What the hell are you doing!?" "Trying to shoot the coon!" he calmly replied. I looked up to see a raccoon just sitting on top of the squirrel and raccoon "proof" bird feeder where grandma keeps the expensive bird feed. It was just looking at us, daring us to kill him. "But you've missed three times!" I tried explaining to him...mind you, the bird feeder is about 6 feet away from us, and he missed three times. "I was aiming high. I didn't want to hit the feeder." Grandpa lamely said, like I was stupid for not knowing he was trying to miss the feeder. Meanwhile, the raccoon, tired of waiting to be shot, jumped onto the roof, and into the night. He put the gun down, and I asked him if there was a problem firing missed shots into a neighborhood, but he didn't seem to think so. What do I know? I don't shoot guns...