I talked to my sister Cindy last night, who told the following funny story on herself:
Her husband Chuck had let the grass get to high before mowing. As a result, after mowing yesterday there were some unsightly clumps of dead grass in their back yard. Cindy gave it a small kick to disperse the clump, and realized she had just kicked a possum in the butt with her bare foot. There were a few blood curdling screams, and Chuck got out there before Cindy had caught her breath.
Still agitated, she demanded to know what kind of stupid wild animal would let you walk right up to it without moving a muscle. After a moment's reflection Chuck suggested "One that's playing possum"?
Postscript: It is easier (though less satisfying) to kick a possum in the butt than a fast & agile husband.
Her husband Chuck had let the grass get to high before mowing. As a result, after mowing yesterday there were some unsightly clumps of dead grass in their back yard. Cindy gave it a small kick to disperse the clump, and realized she had just kicked a possum in the butt with her bare foot. There were a few blood curdling screams, and Chuck got out there before Cindy had caught her breath.
Still agitated, she demanded to know what kind of stupid wild animal would let you walk right up to it without moving a muscle. After a moment's reflection Chuck suggested "One that's playing possum"?
Postscript: It is easier (though less satisfying) to kick a possum in the butt than a fast & agile husband.