"Putting on the Game Face" |
The Grinned to Death Opossum Last night I had another bad dream. I was chased by a female possum down a beach and couldn’t get away. I told my feet to run but the sand gave no traction. Cold fear clutched my chest and my brow flowed with sweat. In my heart, trepedation pounded like a base drum. GA boom! GA Boom, as I stumbled back in to a palm tree. While this was happening my head must have hit my wife’s elbow because I likened it to a coconut hanging from the fronds. There was another protuberence hanging nearby and when I went to touch them she pushed me away. Falling to my knees I noticed further, in the midst of all my anxiety, a hole covered by thorns and bristly vines. (This was a dream after all and in my dreams there are frequent digressions.) So there I was, on all fours, looking into this dark opening. As I gazed therein, I saw a long dark corridor with a light at the end of the tunnel. This must be a end of life experience..., I thought… Woe is me…what am I to do… such an ignominious end, drawn in and swallowed up by this creature with the funny tail. Then I had a flash…. Like the bugle of the cavalry coming to the rescue, a tune came to mind from my distant past, blaring ever louder. “Davie….Davie… Crocket, King of the Wild Frontier. “ Like a revelation those words reminded me of once when Davy was in a similar tight spot. THAT’S IT! shrieked a voice from inside my head…. And I began GRINNING. My nemesis yawned menacingly and cocked her head to one side. I intensified the sardonic look and the carotid artery in my neck began to pulse. The creature retreated backwards as I crinkled my forehead, concentrating with all my might. Then she rolled over, unable to face the onslaught of my deadly smirk… but then, my assailiant, made the fatal mistake. Like Lott’s wife, the dummy looked back over her shoulder. My visage was now fully engaged, leering down with a fearsome and heinous demeaner. She lurched about and began to mutter and hiss. Then I loosed the full power of my toxic personality with the patented squiggly eyed stare. Arrrrr! I cried out, breathing heavy. Well that musta done it because she rolled onto her back, toes splayed and paws extended in the air. Poking her several times, I tried to get a rise but to no avail. I wanted to make sure she wasn't trying to fake me out with some subtle and sneaky trick. You never know for sure with marsupials if they’re playing possum or not. Don’tcha know, the beach was quiet and still...dead to the world….Grinned to death, just like the coon Davy kilt. Teach her to mess with Percy Goodfellow. |