Sofa Pillers

In an urban environment, "tagging" is a blight wherein delinquent cretins leave their chosen mark with paint or other indelible substance on all manner of property belonging to others. The variety of the "signatures" is surpassed only by the absurdity of the practice.

Needless to say, moving from town to the country relieved the ranch hand of a number of aggravations, including the galling sight of having personal "stuff" tagged by mindless spastics.

Now to the point of all this:

My morning ranch news is chunked at the front gate of the Tin Star near bout 5 in the AMish and is recovered for casual perusing by yours truly bout 5:30A. In a worst case scenario, the plastic bag containing the daily offering has wee bit of dew therein.

This mornings I casually stooped in the driveway to acquire the venerable Austin American Statesman in the yellow glow of my headlights and was shocked to find it TAGGED!!!!!

That's right sports fans, Mr. Racoon done performed his morning constitutional smack dab in the middle of my tabloid. I'm talking fresh, steamy, slime about the size of a saucer that fairly screamed, "We was here first Sucka, so don't forget it"!!!!!

I guess the next thing will be varmit street gangs and felonious fowl wrecking havoc on our rural garden of Eden.

Praise the Lord and pass the ammunition. If its trouble they want, there's a new sharuff in town and his twice barrel shootin' iron ain't loaded with sofa pillers!