Chabo's Journal: It seemed like a good idea at the time...

Note: This is a continuation of a series of stories written by a central Texas police officer named "Darth Tang", which are being archived by Chabo, with no editing. Read more about this project.

This story was originally posted on November 3, 2003.

I was getting ready for bed when Mrs. Darth pointed out that Boo, the newest member of the DarthForce was going ballistic. It wasn't close enough to the house to be a noise problem, but Boo is the baby.

So, I grab a handgun and a portable spotlight and go out. The elder members of the DarthForce are eating grasshoppers, so I know its not anything big. I find Boo, and discover she has treed a possum. Now, the possum is not going to move, and it will take much of the night for Boo to figure that out, so I shoot the possum.

The possum takes a .357 Magnum behind the shoulders, breaking its spine. It drops, and promplty lands in a fork (this is in a mesquite tree, which has forks coming off of forks). It hangs there, nearly dead. Great.

I go back into the house, get a .22, a broomhandle I use when I need to poke things, (Its amazing how often you want to jab something from a safe distance), and a shovel to carry the corpse to the fenceline. Its nessessary to get the body out of reach, or the DarthForce will be playing possum toss, possum drag, and possum tug-of-war until the property is covered with possum bits.

I finish the possum off with the .22. The broomhandle is too short; I go back and get a rake. By this time the entire DarthForce has gathered around to watch and offer advice, so I have to get my wife to distract them.

The possum is wedged too tight to knock loose with the rake. The bastard did it on purpose, I am convinced.

I go back to the house, get a saw, come back, saw off the branch at the trunk (2" branch, 20' long, lots of thorny off-shoots). Then haul possum and branch to the lake and pitch 'em over the fence.

I should have just let Boo bark at the damn thing.