It's late. It's 2:39 a.m. Common sense would have me slumbering. However, I am putting together a presentation tonight. So I am sitting here, editing a powerpoint, and I hear the telltale rustling on the porch.

Yes, it can mean only one thing: the arrival of Procyon lotor.

Otherwise known as the Berkeley porch raccoon.

So I sneak up to the front door, open it with a gust, and what do I find? FOUR. Fucking FOUR 15lb. raccoons circled around the cat's water bowl one foot from me. It was like they were lounging about nursing a melting cocktail or something. I had to actually motion towards them before they began to scramble. One tried to scurry under the porch railing to make a dive into the driveway. Trouble is, he was too fat and got stuck. He made that very characteristic raccoon noise-chirping, and managed to get into reverse and set himself straight.

I slammed the door and returned with the broom (traditional weaponry used against savage beasts as these). I was back on the porch in a matter of brief seconds, but they were well off. Headed to the backyard, no less, to take over the doghouse.

The ruthless Berkeley raccoon network is active. Soon the cold weather will banish them to the gravel pit that is the underbelly of my house. Here they will, without doubt, fill this house with the haunting sounds of their antics and tom foolery.