Overture Downs you wore corduroy pants to your middle school dance

The raccoon was a jumpy little thing, and perhaps if Sriracha's hunger was greater or his mood less placid, he'd have given chase merely at her aborted flight. However, his priority at the moment was to free himself of the mud and stink of the mire, and the raccoon would certainly expedite the process.

Mapache, I'm not gonna hurt you, he said, gentle. Then he gave a stuttering laugh and gestured to his face. We're probably related, you and I. And as long as you don't get too handsy with the family goods, I think we'll be fine. That interspecies thing isn't really my deal. He wasn't mocking her, though it could have seemed that way. He felt her loosen a clump of dirt on his leg and wondered when she would, quite literally, go for the gold.