“Blast coon hunting! This ain’t no coon hunt, it don’t come in forty miles of being a coon hunt!”
Dad took me coon hunting when I was a kid. I didn’t like it, being afraid of the dark and easily bored at standing around waiting for the dogs to find a coon and run it up a tree so Dad could shoot it. The next time he wanted me to go, I said I’d rather stay home and watch “Wonder Woman.” He didn’t press me on it. Years later, I would tease him that letting me stay home was why I turned out gay. He just rolled his eyes.
