Adventures with Fabio
It was one very hot summer day in July. Michelle and I had been playing outside like we often did in those days. We were about 16 and that summer we’d both turned into women. We still played like kids. We were playing in the woods, running and having fun. Because it was so hot we’d become a bit sticky.
We decided to jump into the river and play but we didn’t bring our suits. It didn’t matter we skinny dipped a lot back then. We were after all on her fathers land deep in the woods and no one was around. So off with the clothes and into the water.
Well we played and splashed around for a while. Chasing each other from here to there and generally being goobers. We kind of lost track of time in our watery playground. The shoreline is very wooded and the cove we often play in is quite private.
As dinner time approached and the sun moved deep to the western horizon, we decided we better head back home. But as we exited the water we were sure we left our clothes there. Right there and they weren’t there. Maybe we were mistaken and jumped in a little ways up shore.
We found a piece here, a piece there. But the entirety of our clothes were not to be found. They were strewn about haphazardly. What the hell were they looking for anyway? I mean why leave the underwear? I thought that is what boys liked to steal. I mean I’ve heard of panty raids.
After about a half hour of looking we couldn’t find all our clothes. So what we found we put on and we headed home. The whole while we were sure some local boys had seen us and taken our clothes. We were fuming mad to say the least.
“Boys!” I said.
When we got home still half dressed. Michelle’s father asked us where our clothes were. We said someone stole some of them down by the river. We think it was some trouble making boys. Needless to say he tore out of the house heading straight for the cove in the river. He was mad as a hornet.
He was gone about an hour or more before coming back. We asked did you find our clothes? and he replied “Yup, shot the son of a bitch who stole them dead!” I was horrified and Michelle was also confused. He handed mom our clothes and just nodded.
Mom took our clothes to the wash.
He then said “Maybe you know the boy. Want to see if you can identify him?” Michelle followed him so I in horror tagged along. He was talking about how the boy was probably only after the candy in our pockets and not really the clothes, but he had to kill him to get our clothes back.
My stomach was sinking as I was picturing the boys we knew at school. Which one was it? The poor guy, probably just an under class-men. I mean if he wanted the candy he could have just taken it. He didn’t have to die. The whole way I felt sick. A morbid curiosity had taken over now though. I had to know now.
As we got to the shed I closed my eyes tight. I heard as he swung the door open. Then he proclaimed “There is your boy who stole your clothes.”
Then Michelle laughed. I opened my eyes. There hanging upside down was.. and it was Fabio the fat, old raccoon. The same one who ravaged our trash a few nights back. Now I just felt stupid. I thought it was a real boy and not old raccoon.
Michelle signed to me “He had me a little worried.” I said “Me too.” Then he looked at us both and said “Next time leave the chocolate bars and candy in the backpacks and for heavens sake carry some extra clothes even just a long shirt.”
Raccoon doesn’t taste as bad as I thought. Though it does require lots of BBQ sauce and it’s a little tough. I know people say everything tastes like chicken. But raccoon tastes like raccoon. We did however have the coolest shorts around now. Raccoon chewed shorts yeah we started that fad. But that’s another story, for another time.
We never took that advice to put our candy in our backpacks. But instead we made sure to eat all our candy before skinny dipping.