NOB HILL BADGER

Yes. I am the badger. I do not consume "Toad S.O.L Stew".
Someone else can eat that.

I am the badger of Nob Hill.
And have better resources.
It is autumn on Nob Hill. I will pursue the raccoons and possums.

Together we will raid the trash receptacles and throw empty containers against walls, making a furry racket. We will share our fine tobacco, produced by elderly English companies. And enjoy the last bit of mayonaise in a discarded jar.
We have tough digestive organs, we do.
Is that a fresh cigar butt I see?
A yummy duck leg?

Somewhere out there is a small feminine dark-haired person who resembles a raccoon most remarkably. Together we shall chase the pigeons away from our favourite row of garbage cans. Ours!
There is some charsiu in there, I'm sure of it.

In tandem we will amble up Pacific Street, checking out the recycling bins and basement windows. Or stalk pussy cats.
The badger and his co-conspirator.
A small petite raccoon.


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