I don’t have a raccoon daughter because I’m a raccoon biologist. I have a raccoon daughter because I moved to South Africa because I had what I thought was a “prophetic dream” (I had scurvy and also an evil psychiatrist prescribing me the wrong meds) where I was in South Africa and there was billboard with a woman on it in a lab coat holding a red fox and a raccoon that said “Dr Foxy: This Could Be You!” And then in the dream I looked across the street and saw a billboard the said “Come Visit Hooters in South Africa.” And I woke up and was like “I know what I need to do” which was not “go to school to study native wildlife” but instead was “visit Hooters in South Africa.” But I didn’t want to go for just a little while because it was expensive and I didn’t like the idea of the long flight, but I knew I HAD to go to the Hooters in South Africa. So I figured it would be more economical to just go and finish art school there. Except COVID happened and I literally got trapped there and the hooters in the city I moved to had apparently been closed for years and also I got a concussion and when I went to the doctor they said I had scurvy. So I had to do intensive eating treatment where I drank a lot of fruit juice and also learned to eat macaroni that was shapes other than SpongeBob. And after listening to my yapping about raccoons, my therapist, who had never met a raccoon, told me I should get a raccoon to help me keep fresh fruits in the house. And so when I got back to America I found someone trying to get rid of one Facebook because it was apparently evil and bit her toddler and then I did.
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