My sister, The Moose, had an incident with a possum on her way into work a couple of weeks ago. She works in a bakery, so is often on the road in the very earliest hours of the morning...
Moose: So. On the way into work today a possum killed itself, using my car.
Me: Really? What happened?
Moose: Well, I was driving along, and it was on back road, so I was going pretty slowly, and I saw it there, in the road. Looking at me.
Me: Mmm hmm...
Moose: And as I approached it I could see it pretty closely, and it wasn't pretty. And so I tried to swerve, but I ended up hitting it anyhow...
Me: Oh no!
Moose: Oh yes. I felt pretty bad about it, but then I realized that it wanted to die.
Me: Why do you think it wanted to die?
Moose: Well, it was just standing there, and it looked kind of sick. It had horrible yellow eyes, and it was just looking pathetic, sort of begging to be put out of it's misery. I mean, nothing that looked like that could have wanted to live...
Me: Right. (struggling not to laugh and not wanting to tell her they all look like that...)
So yesterday, she calls me...
Moose: So I ran into another possum this morning...
Me: Oh No!
Moose: Not literally. He was in the road, but I hit the breaks and stopped in time. This one didn't want to die. This one just wanted to cross the street.
Me: Bwahahahahaaaaa!!!!