Jim vs the Water Possum

On Thursday night Mike and I went out with Mike's friend Jim. As we walked to Pizza Shuttle to get some dinner, he told us that he read my blog and that he liked Mike's plan to dump the water possum in the river.

I was extremely pleased that he used the phrase "water possum" because I think it's catchy, and I made it up myself. For the rest of the night we talked off and on about the water possum and possible ways to dispose of it. After dinner we came back to the apartment and Jim saw the possum for himself, and agreed that there would be no convenient way to dispose of it. As we were walking to his car so we could drive to the bar, Mike mentioned, "Too bad we can't just pay someone twenty bucks to get rid of it for us."

Jim perked up. "I'll do it. Twenty bucks? I'll do it."

With that he turned around and marched purposefully back to the apartment. "C'mon," I said, grabbing Mike's hand and pulling him back to the apartment. "Let's go see if he's really going to do it."

When we got there Jim was squaring off with the trash can, deciding the best way to proceed. I was giggling uncontrollably and Mike asked me to go to his car and grab a flashlight so he and Jim could see on their trek down to the river.

Jim tried to lift the trash can, but it was quite heavy. After all, it was three-quarters filled with water. He decided that he wouldn't be able to carry it all the way to the river, so he'd better dump a little of the water out first.

Unfortunately, along with the water came the possum. It was no longer entirely solid, so it kind of gooshed over the side.

Mike and Jim used their Boy Scout experience to verify that the water did, indeed, smell remarkably like a latrine. Since the possum was on the ground they decided to just dump out the rest of the water and place the can over the possum. Jim offered to spray the trash can out with water, but Mike assured him that we'd never use the trash can for anything. Ever. Not even garbage.

We gave Jim ten bucks because he didn't make it to the river, but he did change the resting place of the possum somewhat.

Last night Mike and I related the story to my friends Ross and Meghan as we watched a band performance outside in a park. I think they had trouble relating because things like that never seem to happen to them, even though they own a house.

So now we have a possum under a trash can, and our plans are getting more desperate. Ross suggested that we wait until winter when the possum is just a block of ice. Mike said that maybe if we left the possum exposed, pigeons would eat it. I hoped that if I paid a group of under-agers a case of beer, they'd at least fling it into the neighbor's yard with a shovel.

All I know is that the score currently sits at Humans 0, Water Possum 1, and I don't like being beaten by something that's been dead for a month.