Get the coloring page at teapotfulloftales.com/035.
Watch the video on YouTube.
Got a story idea? Leave a message here.
Rascal the Raccoon was quite the party animal. Well, he was sure he would be – if he were ever invited to a party.
But no one ever thinks to invite a raccoon, so Rascal had never had the chance to find out. He couldn’t allow this any longer. He was going to go find a party to join if it was the last thing he did.
One afternoon as he was walking back to his den, Rascal saw a large group of people splashing around in a backyard pool. A pool party! This was his chance. Raccoons, after all, are excellent swimmers, so he was sure to make a fine impression.
He slipped under the fence, crept to the pool, and slid into the water. Rascal paddled around, enjoying the sunshine on his masked face. Nearby, a group of kids were playing Marco Polo. It looked like fun. With his little hand, he reached out and tapped one of them on the shoulder.
The little girl looked at him and screamed, “A raccoon! In the water!”
Pandemonium erupted. People leapt from the pool, terrified of the many imaginary diseases that Rascal might have. In moments, he was treading water all alone. Not waiting to see what would happen next, he too made a quick escape before they could call animal control.
After this disastrous first attempt, Rascal waited a long time before trying again. By the time he ventured out, snow lay thick on the ground.
Rascal was making his nightly rounds of the neighborhood trashcans when he noticed a whole host of people flocking to one of the houses. Twinkling lights adorned the roof, and a brilliant Christmas tree stood by the front window. Rascal was enthralled. He just had to join that party.
He waited in the bush by the front door until the next group arrived. Slipping in among the coats and scarves, he soon found himself surrounded by rosy chatter and joyful giggles. He was in love at once.
On a nearby table sat a crockpot filled with a warm, spicy drink. Guests ladled mug after mug, and Rascal decided he ought to have some as well. He scaled the table with ease and reached for the ladle when…
“A raccoon! In the cider!” screamed an old lady, swiping her handbag at him.
Rascal skittered for cover and made a break for the door the moment it opened. He was through the snowdrifts and back home before the party guests even realized he was gone. Rascal’s heart was broken, but at least his head wasn’t, so he considered himself lucky. Still, he wasn’t ready to give up on his dream. There had to be a party where he fit.
Winter turned to spring, and Rascal finally spotted another opportunity: a tea party. Ladies arrived in sophisticated sundresses and white gloves. Shining cups and dainty plates called to Rascal. He had to try one more time.
Silent as a shadow, he stole into the garden, slipping beneath rose bushes and behind rhododendrons. The gentle chatter of the guests filled Rascal with joy, and, for a while, he was content just to be there.
That is, until he saw the petit fours. Trays of the tiny cakes appeared: lemon, checkerboard, red velvet. They all looked so delectable. Rascal couldn’t take his eyes off of them as they danced among the tables.
When the trays were set down on a side table, he saw his chance. He darted from his hiding spot. With all the agility he could muster, he leapt for the cake. Unfortunately, he hadn’t noticed that the tray wasn’t quite on the table. With one misplaced paw, he sent the tiny cakes soaring through the air and into the cups, laps, and hair of the ladies.
Screams of “Raccoon!” rang in his ears as he scurried away.
He was a most dejected raccoon as he dragged himself through the downtown streets hours later. He was now sure that he would never get to enjoy a party. There were simply none made for a raccoon like him.
Just then, a couple in elegant dress brushed past Rascal. He stopped short. The tuxedo and ball gown were paired with masks – masks just like his! Timidly, he followed, wondering where they could possibly be going.
When they went inside, Rascal pressed his nose against the window. There, hundreds of people twirled under shining chandeliers, all of them in masks of silver and red, green and blue. A masquerade ball! Could this be the party for Rascal at last?
The little raccoon snuck inside, clinging to the wall as dresses whirled past. Suddenly, the lady he had followed spied his little masked face peering through the skirts. The two of them locked eyes, and Rascal prepared to run.
But instead of a scream came a smile. “A raccoon!” she said with a laugh. “Well, I’d say you’re in the right place, my little friend.”
And with that, Rascal let himself join the music. He whirled gracefully around the dance floor and was soon caught up in pure joy.
At long last, Rascal had found his party.
