Our hero fired at point-blank range and, of course, missed. But he did succeed in driving the animal to a previously prepared position in the carport, where he had stashed some food. More shots, more misses. Meanwhile, the shooter's wife had been busy turning on the outside lights. This finally scared off the coon, not to mention a passing motorist, and the midnight gambol and frolic were over.
Why, the man wondered, had the coon been so contemptuous of him and his rifle? His wife had a theory. "It wasn't afraid of you because you were naked. It thought you were one of them—a beast of the wildwood."
Which brings to mind the Groucho Marxism: "I remember the time I shot an elephant in my pajamas. How he got into them I'll never know."