Not-So-Awesome Possum.

25 Jun

On Sunday evening, Kelly and I discovered something that no two twenty-somethings want to find in their house: A possum. A real live, tail-and-all possum.

Kelly was in the laundry room doing…well, laundry…and it walked past her. She said it was less than a foot from her, looked up at her in a miffed sort of way, and kept walking. She screamed, and I don’t blame her one bit for that.

I was occupado in the bathroom at the time, and let me tell you, I think that was probably the fastest I have ever pulled my jeans back up. I rushed out into the living room to find Kelly in the middle of the room, basically as far away from the laundry room as you can get. She was a bit hysterical, and when I was finally able to get her to tell me what happened, her voice was roughly an octave and a half higher than it usually is.

“There was a THING! and it LOOKED AT ME! and it had FUR! and it’s in our HOUSE!!!”

Being the brave and slightly retarded friend that I am, I grabbed a broom and pulled myself up onto the washer, brandishing the broom like a spear, ready to…you know, I have NO idea what I would’ve done if I had actually seen the possum. But I didn’t see it. I heard it hiss, in the back-off-stupid-human way that animals hiss when threatened, and I hightailed it outta that laundry room and slammed the door behind me.

Kelly, hysterical again, called her mom. I stood, slightly helpless, still brandishing the broom, more like a shield now, while her mom told her to be careful and not get rabies. Kelly, by this point, had her mace in her free hand and was keeping her eyes fixed on the laundry room door. I think we were both imagining our house suddenly overwhelmed with rodents.

“I don’t know, mom. It was either a small possum or the biggest rat I have ever seen!” Kelly said. It was at that point that I decided a possum wasn’t such a bad thing, after all.

Kelly hung up. We continued to stare at the laundry room door, and I finally picked up my phone and called the nearest Brute Squad I could think of; my friends/brothers, Ben, Seth, and Josh.

Less than ten minutes later, they come through the door. Ben comes in with gloves and a sheet (the closest thing to a trap that was on hand). Seth has gloves and a long pole. Kelly and I are nodding approvingly–and then Josh walks through the door with a sledgehammer. Kelly leaned over and said, “He’s my favorite.”

For real. That possum needed a good smashing.

The boys open the door slowly, Sheet Trap spread out, and closed the door behind them. Instantly, the door started shaking and the boys all started yelling. I think Kelly may have hit her head on the ceiling, she jumped so high. And screamed.

Josh opened the door, huge grin on his face. “We had to…sorry…” then closed the door again. I rolled my eyes as Kelly tried to regain control of her lungs and heart.

Eventually, the boys determined there was no longer a possum in our house and that there was a hole in the side of our house. Not so cool. They used a couple of very large rocks to cover the hole as best they could, then took out our trash (real gentlemen!) and took their leave.

Kelly and I searched the house to make sure no other critters had managed to find holes in the side of our house, then tried our bestest to get sleep.

When I woke up the next morning, Kelly looked at me, slightly bleary-eyed, and asked if she had dreamed the whole thing. The only reason we knew we hadn’t dreamed it? All the cardboard boxes that had occupied our laundry room were now in our kitchen.

No possum. Hole in the side of our house. Boxes in our kitchen.

This house is quite the unexpected adventure. Kelly and I are trying to decide if we like it.

I’m not Bible Baggins, and to be honest, I’m kind of tired of these little ‘surprise adventures’ in our new House Adventure.

Kelly and I also decided that we either need a ferocious dog who loves us…or a guy roommate. Or both. Both is good, really. Anything to keep the possums away (and take out the trash every once in a while).

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Posted by on June 25, 2014 in Uncategorized


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