Well, it happened. For better or worse.

We hadn't heard from (or seen) the raccoon for weeks. Which was unlike him. When you own a neighborhood, you flaunt it - whether it's asking for cigarettes from a different species, stealing bread from national sandwich chains, or just taking a dump whenever/wherever you want. That's just the nature of kingship.

At any rate, I was driving back from Historic West Adams late on a Saturday night. I had just transferred to the 405 and was dodging cars to get onto the exit ramp to Wilshire. Traffic was backed up along the ramp...which gave me the opportunity to see it.

Lying along the roadside, dead as a doornail, was the biggest raccoon anyone had ever seen. A tire-sized stripe was caved into its side, and its mouth was just open enough to bare teeth.

It was at this point that I realized that traffic was so backed up because everyone who was exiting the 405 at Wilshire was rubber-necking this giant fallen beast.

I've been hoping for weeks that I was wrong - that the King had perhaps faked his own death to throw us off the trail. Or that one of his mininions had siply taken a cue from him and tried to assert its authority over the residents at an inopportune time and paid the ultimate price.

Regardless, we have had no run-ins with the raccoon for weeks. It's time to move on with our lives...at least, until the next species of giant wildlife pops up.

Thanks for being with us.