Raccoons.

Sometimes a blog post sparks a memory, an anecdote that you just need to share, but since this yarn is too long to be spun in someone else's comments, I'm posting it here.

Many moons ago I lived in a small college town In the Midwest. I spent 3 summers in said town. I had bills to pay and rugby to play during the school year, so I had to get jobs (yes, plural) during the summer, and I tended to live in pretty crappy housing, and never had conditioned air.
One evening I was coming home late from one of my jobs, covered in McSludge (tm) and weary. I came up the stairs to see two of my roommates poised. Weapons in hand just outside the door to their bedroom. They were giggling and well pretty intoxicated. One of them had a blow gun in hand, the other had a broom. I sighed and said "what the hell are you guys doing?" They shushed me with vigor, then began to giggle uncontrollably. They pointed into their bedroom. I peer into their room. Their window was open, and a huge fat raccoon was digging through their ashtray for seeds.
Seeds of what.. who's to say.
I sigh again, stride forward and grab the broom out of my roommate's hand. I swat I take one Macwireian swing and swat our pudgy friend out the window, and slam it shut. I turn, and walk out. I hand the the broom back to my roommate as I pass, and head for the showers.
"Next time, guys, put the box fan in the window. It keeps the varmints out."