the things my neighbors do...

[This is an old post, about two years old. I never did post it, but I have now and I hope you enjoy it.]

I looked out the library window where I sat reading a fairly dull book and an engaging scene caught my eye.
Directly across the street in Jacob's yard, most of our neighbor friends were standing and looking up into a tree. There was Darrell in his camo pants and t-shirt, his hands deep in his pockets. Candace, a small teenage girl with a braid down her back, was laughing at a story my brother was telling, or rather acting out. He was waving his arms, fingers splayed. Then he bent backwards, staggering slightly, his sunglasses perched on his head. I had thought he was inside doing school.   
I put my book upside-down and sat on the carpet to watch.
Then Jacob's dad, Steve, came from behind the tree with a pellet gun in his hand. He walked into the garage and broke the barrel to reload. Then he went back to his spot and lifted the gun to his shoulder. Everyone looked up into the tree, arms crossed, shifting their weight from one foot to the other, squinting. Pete knelt on the grass holding his hound by the collar.
Then, to my delight, I spoted Mr. Fox standing a little behind everyone in lime-green pajama bottoms and bare feet. The legs of the pajamas stopped just above his ankles and his long arms hung by his sides out of a small white shirt. I could not believe my eyes and I laughed out loud and thought, "Oh, this'll make a great post, if I can dare to write it."
Then Candice looked across at our house and I dove behind the curtain.
Peeking carefully out the window, I began to compose my story. Then it just got better. At the same time as Steve lowered his gun, a hairy beast dropped out of the tree and flopped, kicking, onto the grass at everyone's feet. I got up onto my knees and gawked. It was orange and far too huge for a squirrel.
As it fell, Pete let go of his dog's collar and she bounded on top of it, taking it in her teeth and shaking it. It looked like a huge rabbit.
Pete called her off. Calvin picked the beast up by the scruff of its neck and grinned like a hill-billy and I realized that it was a coon.
I began to feel like a writer, in the bad sense, because even though I was enjoying my omniscient view from the window, I felt like an outsider. The sun was shining and people were laughing and Calvin was waving the coon around. It all looked so happy, but I had lots of books to read that morning.
Pete took the coon from Calvin and carried it over to the fence and I believed I saw the flash of a knife in his hand. He was skinning it.
I could not sit there and watch any longer. I forsook my books, shoved the window up and climbed into the empty flowerbed outside. It was a beautiful, warm day. How could I be reading, when the sun could shine on my arms and I could watch stuff you can't even learn in Boy Scouts?
So, I sat on the dog kennel next to Calvin and got an anatomy lesson. Pete gave the bacalum bone to Calvin as a lucky charm, and embarrassed slightly, Calvin took it and ran it inside.
Once the skin was off, Pete handed the carcass to Tasha and said, "This is for your chickens."
"Hey, Tasha, should I tan the hide?" I said.
"You already have the deer skin you never finished."
That is the truth. I never did.
So Tasha said, "Darrell, do you want it?"
"Oh, I already have the other two in the freezer," Darrell said, but took it anyway and ran it over to his house.
Much talk later, my books began to call to me and I could linger in that happy company no longer, so I ran across the street and climbed back through the window and shut it. Then I flopped onto the carpet and finished my chapter.
Now I'm writing about it.