Playin' Possum
OK, city people, do you know what a possum looks like?
You're not missing much. It is like a giant rat, but with
bug-eyes, and uglier. The actual name for it is "opossum,"
but nobody ever calls it that. We have a lot of them down
here in Redneckland. Their natural habitat is dead along the
side of the road, but every now and then you can spot a live
one. We had one that used to come up onto the porch at
night to eat dogfood.
Here's a little possum humor for you.
"Why did the chicken cross the road?"
"To show the possum that it could be done."
One morning as we were leaving for school, we saw one
by the garage. It was stretched out on its side like a dog lying
in the sun. Funny thing, though, was the layer of frost on
its fur. It looked like it was sleeping. An hour earlier my
husband's truck had been parked right where it was lying.
You know, the 4WD Ford F250 Extended Cab Long Bed
that is too big to fit in the garage. The possum didn't look
flat, and it didn't look dead. But it sure wasn't moving.
I told #1 son to go poke it with his toe to see if it would
move, but he politely declined. Actually, I think his exact
words were: "No way! You go do it!" Well, since I didn't
want to be late, I said I would check it when we got home.
Both boys craned their necks to see it as we went up the
driveway. And they did the same thing on the way back
in the afternoon. The day had warmed up, and Mr. O. Possum
was in the same position as we left him. #2 son said, "Maybe
he's just tired and taking a nap." Nine hours is one long nap.
I said, "Hey, maybe he's just "playing possum!" Heh, heh,
I crack myself up sometimes. The kids didn't find this nearly
as humorous as I did. In fact, they didn't crack a smile.
I got out and poked it with my toe, and of course it didn't
move. The dog must have scared him to death. There were
no marks on him at all.
When my husband got home, I told him he needed to get
rid of it. He came back about 5 minutes later, and said
"He's gone." I should have let well enough alone, but no, I
had to ask where it was. "Did you sling him over the fence
into the neighbor's field?" That's what I would have done.
Make a note never to move into my neighborhood.
"No. I put him in the sinkhole." OK, people, we have well
water. Do you know what a sinkhole is? It is like a giant
bathtub drain down into the water table. That the well taps
into. That gives us our water. That we drink.
Make another note: If you do move into my neighborhood,
don't drink the water. And repeat after me: "A sinkhole is not
nature's dumpster."
You're not missing much. It is like a giant rat, but with
bug-eyes, and uglier. The actual name for it is "opossum,"
but nobody ever calls it that. We have a lot of them down
here in Redneckland. Their natural habitat is dead along the
side of the road, but every now and then you can spot a live
one. We had one that used to come up onto the porch at
night to eat dogfood.
Here's a little possum humor for you.
"Why did the chicken cross the road?"
"To show the possum that it could be done."
One morning as we were leaving for school, we saw one
by the garage. It was stretched out on its side like a dog lying
in the sun. Funny thing, though, was the layer of frost on
its fur. It looked like it was sleeping. An hour earlier my
husband's truck had been parked right where it was lying.
You know, the 4WD Ford F250 Extended Cab Long Bed
that is too big to fit in the garage. The possum didn't look
flat, and it didn't look dead. But it sure wasn't moving.
I told #1 son to go poke it with his toe to see if it would
move, but he politely declined. Actually, I think his exact
words were: "No way! You go do it!" Well, since I didn't
want to be late, I said I would check it when we got home.
Both boys craned their necks to see it as we went up the
driveway. And they did the same thing on the way back
in the afternoon. The day had warmed up, and Mr. O. Possum
was in the same position as we left him. #2 son said, "Maybe
he's just tired and taking a nap." Nine hours is one long nap.
I said, "Hey, maybe he's just "playing possum!" Heh, heh,
I crack myself up sometimes. The kids didn't find this nearly
as humorous as I did. In fact, they didn't crack a smile.
I got out and poked it with my toe, and of course it didn't
move. The dog must have scared him to death. There were
no marks on him at all.
When my husband got home, I told him he needed to get
rid of it. He came back about 5 minutes later, and said
"He's gone." I should have let well enough alone, but no, I
had to ask where it was. "Did you sling him over the fence
into the neighbor's field?" That's what I would have done.
Make a note never to move into my neighborhood.
"No. I put him in the sinkhole." OK, people, we have well
water. Do you know what a sinkhole is? It is like a giant
bathtub drain down into the water table. That the well taps
into. That gives us our water. That we drink.
Make another note: If you do move into my neighborhood,
don't drink the water. And repeat after me: "A sinkhole is not
nature's dumpster."
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