A Close Encounter Of The Rodent Kind.

So today as I was getting home around 4:30, I did what I normally do when it's winter. Grab as much of the crap that is turning my van into one of those curbside garbage cans that I can, and carry it into it's respective place. First stop, recycle bin. With my lunch box, cell phone, car keys, McDonald's bags filled with garbage, and sunglasses all being deftly clung to by one or more fingers, I try and drop the empty water bottles into the little yellow recycling bin just inside the garage door. It was at that precise moment that I had a close encounter of the rodent kind.

No, I am not afraid of mice. I used to have them as pets. Until the little buggers started breeding like, er, mice. One or two is cute. Five or more is Willard. And it wasn't a rat. Never seen one in Gurnee. Saw a couple in Chicago that were big enough to pull a dog sled, but never here. Nope, I was about a foot and a half away from the gaping, hideous, hissing mouth of a possum. Scared the freakin' bejesus out of me! I actually went Nyaaahhh!! You know that sound, the one that Curly would make in every episode when something was wrong. He, or more likely she looking for a place to have some little hissing babies, was all nestled up with a pizza box as a bed and a newspaper as a blanket.

So I dumped my load of crap in the house, and tried to get the little bastard to budge. He wasn't going anywhere. I kick the bin. He hisses again. At least I think he's hissing when he opens up and bares his teeth in crocodile like fashion. I grab a stick and push the bin into the driveway. He ain't budgin'. So finally I turn the thing over thinking it would freak out and scamper, but apparently freaking out and scampering aren't exactly in this guys repertoire. So I lift the bin and shake the contents out, including the offender. He finally gets the hint, but just before he waddled away around the corner of the house, he looked at me, and in one instant he said with his eyes, "You fucker! I was all warm and cozy, the perfect spot! Food in the big blue thing right next to me, no blistering wind blowing up my ass. What gives you the right to kick me out into the cold, bitter winter again!" Or something like that.

Last night the wife had me look in the garage because she swore she heard something. I tried to give a listen, but he must have been playing possum at that point. And is it possum, or opossum? Does it matter? They have the grossest, most hideous, evil, snaggle-toothed grin of any animal out there. Except maybe the hyena. But I guess a possum is sort of a rodent-like hyena. But who's laughing now bitch?