A dead raccoon, a crazy girl, and a swarm of police: John Money goes to jail

Being involved with many different women throughout my life, I've gotten used to handling all sorts of personality types on both ends of the scale. It didn't shock me that every once in a while I would wake up to have a little love note on my car, occasionally even finding my car arrayed with gifts or decorations.

Usually it would be known of who was leaving me these alms, but every so often I would get a note signed "your secret admirer." I had gotten a couple of these letters from different fans, but then these notes began to come more frequently, and it was from the same person (same handwriting, message on the notes and the same blood signature. Just kidding about the blood signature - this time. And no, this was a different lady, it was not "Ashley").

It didn't take long to figure out who this "secret admirer" was since every time I would wake up to a note, that day, a girl we'll call "Kacee" would ask me if I had gotten any love notes lately. It was then I realized who my secret admirer was. It was Big Bird.

After weeks and weeks of this happening sporadically, Kacee started asking if I was ever going to respond to my undercover lover. I would usually laugh uncomfortably and say something along the lines of "Oh, sure. I just loooove getting those notes. I'll, uh, have to, um, return the favor soon" and really thought nothing of it.

It was nearing Valentine's day and the barrage of love notes had slowed, but the constant query of a response to the letters hadn't ceased. As a few of my colleagues and I were driving around plotting our next prank, we happened to come across a dead raccoon on the side of the road. Of course animals are constantly hit by cars and usually I do the nice thing and get them off the road. I then eat them (TAKE THAT PETA!). Now, to most people this carcass wouldn't even get a second look. As you should know by now, myself and any friends of mine are far from 'most people.'

We decide "we're taking this one" and James gets voted to pick up the lifeless ball of flesh. He gets out and before he can put it in my buddy's trunk, he struggles and drops the raccoon a few times before finally calling me over for assistance.

We're laughing pretty hard by now just thinking about what we're actually doing. I was surprised at how large this beast was, and when we pick this thing up, it's easily 30 pounds. Not too heavy for two young athletic studs, however, balancing it was the toughest feat since neither of us wanted to become too intimate with this humungous hunk of fur. It felt like a huge hairy balloon filled with water, with bones and paws sticking out, that you could get rabies from. Like balancing a 30lb. hairy piece of jello, we finally get it in the trunk and converse with our accomplices of who's going to be the lucky recipient of this award.

I think the saddest part of this whole thing was that this wasn't the first time we had done this. That's right, we had given Santa Claus a run for his money in dispersing of animals for presents. That's a pretty normal thing to do, right?

I realize that my good friend Kacee was not only deserving of this gift, but has been yearning for something of the like from the man she has been infatuated with for months. We get the 5 families together and agree that she is the best candidate for this run. Just dropping "Ricky" the Raccoon off however, wouldn't be enough. We had to go all out. We go back to James' house, write a detailed love letter, get some string, and we're ready to go.

We arrive at Kacee's house around midnight and park down the street. Now we have to carry the deceased creature up the block and figure out the placement situation. We walk up into the driveway and quietly decide to put this thing on her car. We clean the snow off the vehicle's windshield and sprawl out the raccoon spread eagle on the window. Things are going smooth till I hear a noise. I look up and her mother is in the window. In an instant I'm a Ninja as fly in slow motion, tackle my team, and we all duck and cover.

Our flawless plan was now flawed. We patiently wait in the freezing cold as we watch "Mom" enjoy a nice little midnight snack. If she only knew the vile act taking place 10 feet away from her window.

She finally goes back upstairs and we get back up to finish the process. In what seems to take forever, we're now trying to clean the snow off the raccoon's fur and tie the string with our love note attached around Ricki's paw. Despite frozen fingers and constantly being on the lookout, we quickly get the job done.

Just as we're making our inconspicuous exit, a car pulls up the street. Instead of acting calm and collected as we always did, Chuck gets a little nervous and decides to sprint off. If that wasn't bad enough, another follows. Me and Jeff look at each other for a brief second which was just enough time for the car from the street to actually pull into the driveway. Now the four of us are a world famous track team sprinting down the block.

The car we came in is one street away and is the only car parked on the side of the road. We're running to the car planning on hopping in and peeling off, but before we get to the car, the driver who spotted us seconds earlier decides to give chase.

As soon as the headlights are spotted, I jump behind a bush and Jeff does likewise finding cover behind a nearby tree. Chad comes to the conclusion the best thing to do is get into his car as the guy who was chasing us turns the corner. Like a deer in headlights, so is Chad wide eyed standing still in the road with his antlers. Foolishly he jumps in his car and yells for us. We hesitate, then realize it's too late and we have to get in the car before the cops show up. Jeff and I look at each other and reluctantly we all dart into the car to take off.

Driving away, there is more tension than laughter as we see multiple police cars pass us on the opposite side of the road. After about the 4th patrol car passed us, we see it skid in the middle of the street and do a 180. The lights come on and they're after us. Chad floors it.

Before we can make it on "World's scariest police chases," 2 more cruisers coming from the other direction head straight towards us. The car tires screech and we get boxed in.

Before any of us can say a word the cops are at are doors and have their guns drawn. We're literally surrounded. The dogs are at our windows barking and salivating and the police are yelling as if a gunfight is about to breakout.

Police: GET THE ---- OUT OF THE CAR! HANDS UP! SHOW US YOUR ------- HANDS! EVERYONE OUT OF THE CAR RIGHT NOW!

We get viloently yanked out of the car, cuffed, and thrown in the police cars. We try explaining we didn't just rob a bank (this time), but our pleas fall on deaf ears. We get carted off to the big house. After a nice meal at IHOP, we go to jail.

That's where things clear up a little bit.

Come to find out, the guy who drove up and spotted us was Kacee's older brother. He was just getting off a late shift of work and thought we were trying to break into his house or steal the cars in the driveway, so he called 911. The police, of course, when pulling us over thought they were dealing with a bunch of hardcore criminals. Little did they know we were just innocent kids violating a dead animal's rights.

When being booked, the mental and verbal abuse proceeded. One of my "partners in crime" seemed a little intimidated, but not me. Not because I'm some tough guy (because I am), but the "intimidation" from the officers went a little like this...

Officer1: You know this is a very serious crime.
Officer2: This is NOT something to be taken lightly!

Then they both turn and look at the photos taken at the "scene of the crime" and would start cracking up, as if being 5 feet away we couldn't hear them.

Officers: Very serious crime. You boys better watch yourselves because you are all gonna' have your day in court (they turn and laugh some more)!

When it was time to go to court, the prosecutor tried to talk as condescendingly as possible and make fun of me.

Prosecutor: So, you like to give the ladies furs?

He then raises his voice so even the whispers in the silent courtroom cease.

Prosecutor: (Cont'd) WELL MR. LADIES MAN, NEXT TIME YOU WANT TO GIVE THE LADIES FUR, YOU MIGHT WANT TO MAKE SURE IT'S OFF THE ANIMAL FIRST!

I begin to hear laughter from the "audience."

Prosecutor: (Cont'd) Sprawling a dead carcass over a woman's windshield with a love note tied to its paw is NOT the way to a woman's heart. My advice, get your lady a ring. Not a dead raccoon.

The courtroom bursts into laughter and is now the live studio audience in my latest sitcom.

He continued to make fun of me and made sure that he "taught me a lesson" by having everyone in court laugh at me for this little prank. The more he tried to belittle me, the more people laughed, and yes, the more I reveled in the crowd loving me. I'll give him credit for cracking some funny jokes (and getting me off the hook). The only flaw in the prosecutor's approach however, was that I think I had more fun in court that day entertaining everyone than when I was actually pulling off the prank.

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