The Front Porch Swing

[TexasLisa]

I am Ben.

Ben, I am going to beat Bee with this:

We have guys on here that talk more than you do. Come on, you can do it!

Lisa

 

[Beekissed]

Yeah I did get him by the tail finally. Okay I'll be waiting to hear it

I'll tell it....scoot off that there bucket, Blooie, it's my turn to tell a yarn. One night as I walking through my house I noticed my outdoors cat, who used to visit indoors of an evening, was all fuzzed up, back arched and staring at the front storm door like there was a ghost on the porch. Well...me being me, I says "What you lookin' at, Spike?" and swung open that door...

......and in walked a possum. He just waddled right through the door so quick I didn't have a chance to stop him and he looked up at me as if to say, "Thanks, lady...now..where's the vittles?".

He then walked over to the table and sat underneath it like he was some kinda housecat. I got the broom and tried to sweep him out of there. He refused to budge, hissed at me and gritted his teeth at me. The cat just continued to stare and bug out. Once again I try to sweep the possum from under the table and once again he hisses and refuses to be rolled outta there.

I'm thinking, "I'll fix you, buster! I'm bringing in the hounds of Baskerville to paint yer little red wagon!" and I went outside to fetch the two dogs. I bring them into the house and they gallop into the kitchen and into the living room, right past the cat and the possum who sits under the table. They are just bouncing around and happy to be invited in for a TV night. I call them back into the kitchen and tell them, "There is a possum under the table....possum! Look at the possum!" and I point dramatically at the possum.

****Now, here I must add that these dogs are stone cold killers of possum on a normal day when they find one strolling onto the premises...but apparently this isn't a normal day and they feel the possum "belongs" to me because it's in the house. Anything that belongs to the pack leader is off limits.****

They look at where I am pointing, run over and sniff at the possum, run to the cat and sniff the cat, run back to the sink and look at me as if to say, "Ugly new cat. Cool. Now...where's the vittles?" I point at the possum once again and say, "Git the possum!!" and they look in that direction, look back at me, tails wagging and tongues lolling...waiting for the treat. Whatever treat, any treat...all they know is when they get treats in the house they have to be eaten in the kitchen and not on the carpet in the living room. Sigh.

I immediately rescinded their "Dog Cards" and put them back outside. Hounds of Baskerville? More like poodles on parade. I put the cat outside...he's no help either. He is just staring at the "ugly kitty" and waiting to see what the woman will do about it. I suspect he and this possum are old enemies as someone has been stealing the cat food off my front porch for some nights now.

One of the boys was due to come home in a few minutes so I thought...hmmmm...I'll get a man to get Earl out from under the table! Right then my oldest son comes home and he's carrying some take out food in one hand, greets me cheerfully, says he's "starving" which he clearly is not...he's the size of a bull moose, but that's neither here nor there....

I'm surprised he hasn't noticed the large, stinking, white "cat" under the table...I shouldn't have been...men notice so few things when food is present. He quickly sits down at the table and starts to eat before I can warn him about Earl, the unwanted house guest.

I tell him slowly and succinctly, "There is a possum under that table!".

He pauses briefly, mouth full... "What?".

I grit my teeth in my best imitation of Earl and speak through them as I repeat, "There is a possum under that table. He came in a little bit ago and I can't get him out, so I need you to get him out of there for me."

He pauses in his food inhalation, looks under the table and says, "Huh! That's a possum."

Ya think?

I says, "Well! Git him outta there!" while inside I'm quietly steaming as I have had it up to the gills with Earl's bad manners, his ingratiating grin and his big ugly teeth, not to mention his smell. Did you all know possums stink like something crawled up inside them and just before it died it just had strength enough left to fart? Well..they do.

My son continues to eat... lifts up one cheek and rips off a huge fart.... "THAT'LL get him outta there!".... and goes back to snarfing down a burger and fries. I'm suddenly feeling very much like picking up the possum and placing it on his fries.

I prop open the front door and wait....fuming over the combined fumes of wimpy man and ugly possum... and the ineffectual cats, dogs and menfolk in my life...then I demand HIS "Man Card", stride over to the table, hold my breath, bend down and take Earl by the tail and march to the door. I give him a big swinging toss off the porch and as he strolls away he looks back as if to say, "So much for southern hospitality! Hmmmph! Watch yer cat food, lady....I'll be back!".

So I named him Earl because Earl has gotta die! I caught him by the tail a few years later..same possum (had the end of his tail missing)...and tossed him off the porch again. Maybe his tail is missing because it's been worn off by folks tossing Earl to the curb? Seems like I never have a gun handy when Earl comes to visit.

Now, every time we see a possum dead on the road we yell, "Look!! It's Earl's granny or nephew or uncle or some such..." because Earl never dies. That's my possum story and that's how I know they can be caught easily by the tail and carried in that manner, without risk to life and limb...wash yer hands good after.....

 

[ClucksnDucks11]

*I yawn 1000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000 times.* I`m tired. And I can`t say anything more.

 

[chickenboy190]

I'll tell it....scoot off that there bucket, Blooie, it's my turn to tell a yarn. One night as I walking through my house I noticed my outdoors cat, who used to visit indoors of an evening, was all fuzzed up, back arched and staring at the front storm door like there was a ghost on the porch. Well...me being me, I says "What you lookin' at, Spike?" and swung open that door...

......and in walked a possum. He just waddled right through the door so quick I didn't have a chance to stop him and he looked up at me as if to say, "Thanks, lady...now..where's the vittles?".

He then walked over to the table and sat underneath it like he was some kinda housecat. I got the broom and tried to sweep him out of there. He refused to budge, hissed at me and gritted his teeth at me. The cat just continued to stare and bug out. Once again I try to sweep the possum from under the table and once again he hisses and refuses to be rolled outta there.

I'm thinking, "I'll fix you, buster! I'm bringing in the hounds of Baskerville to paint yer little red wagon!" and I went outside to fetch the two dogs. I bring them into the house and they gallop into the kitchen and into the living room, right past the cat and the possum who sits under the table. They are just bouncing around and happy to be invited in for a TV night. I call them back into the kitchen and tell them, "There is a possum under the table....possum! Look at the possum!" and I point dramatically at the possum.

****Now, here I must add that these dogs are stone cold killers of possum on a normal day when they find one strolling onto the premises...but apparently this isn't a normal day and they feel the possum "belongs" to me because it's in the house. Anything that belongs to the pack leader is off limits.****

They look at where I am pointing, run over and sniff at the possum, run to the cat and sniff the cat, run back to the sink and look at me as if to say, "Ugly new cat. Cool. Now...where's the vittles?" I point at the possum once again and say, "Git the possum!!" and they look in that direction, look back at me, tails wagging and tongues lolling...waiting for the treat. Whatever treat, any treat...all they know is when they get treats in the house they have to be eaten in the kitchen and not on the carpet in the living room. Sigh.

I immediately rescinded their "Dog Cards" and put them back outside. Hounds of Baskerville? More like poodles on parade. I put the cat outside...he's no help either. He is just staring at the "ugly kitty" and waiting to see what the woman will do about it. I suspect he and this possum are old enemies as someone has been stealing the cat food off my front porch for some nights now.

One of the boys was due to come home in a few minutes so I thought...hmmmm...I'll get a man to get Earl out from under the table! Right then my oldest son comes home and he's carrying some take out food in one hand, greets me cheerfully, says he's "starving" which he clearly is not...he's the size of a bull moose, but that's neither here nor there....

I'm surprised he hasn't noticed the large, stinking, white "cat" under the table...I shouldn't have been...men notice so few things when food is present. He quickly sits down at the table and starts to eat before I can warn him about Earl, the unwanted house guest.

I tell him slowly and succinctly, "There is a possum under that table!".

He pauses briefly, mouth full... "What?".

I grit my teeth in my best imitation of Earl and speak through them as I repeat, "There is a possum under that table. He came in a little bit ago and I can't get him out, so I need you to get him out of there for me."

He pauses in his food inhalation, looks under the table and says, "Huh! That's a possum."

Ya think?

I says, "Well! Git him outta there!" while inside I'm quietly steaming as I have had it up to the gills with Earl's bad manners, his ingratiating grin and his big ugly teeth, not to mention his smell. Did you all know possums stink like something crawled up inside them and just before it died it just had strength enough left to fart? Well..they do.

My son continues to eat... lifts up one cheek and rips off a huge fart.... "THAT'LL get him outta there!".... and goes back to snarfing down a burger and fries. I'm suddenly feeling very much like picking up the possum and placing it on his fries.

I prop open the front door and wait....fuming over the combined fumes of wimpy man and ugly possum... and the ineffectual cats, dogs and menfolk in my life...then I demand HIS "Man Card", stride over to the table, hold my breath, bend down and take Earl by the tail and march to the door. I give him a big swinging toss off the porch and as he strolls away he looks back as if to say, "So much for southern hospitality! Hmmmph! Watch yer cat food, lady....I'll be back!".

So I named him Earl because Earl has gotta die! I caught him by the tail a few years later..same possum (had the end of his tail missing)...and tossed him off the porch again. Maybe his tail is missing because it's been worn off by folks tossing Earl to the curb? Seems like I never have a gun handy when Earl comes to visit.

Now, every time we see a possum dead on the road we yell, "Look!! It's Earl's granny or nephew or uncle or some such..." because Earl never dies. That's my possum story and that's how I know they can be caught easily by the tail and carried in that manner, without risk to life and limb...wash yer hands good after.....

That was really good story

 

[Tomtommom]

 

[heartsizedfarm]

Loved that story Bee. So true the dogs bouncing in, happy to be invited for a TV evening indoors, yip yip hurray, and whatever is under the table, well, its your house, if you want to entertain vermin that's your call.

 

[LeslieDJoyce]

. Now I want a burger and fries.

 

[wyoDreamer]

I can just picture the whole story unfolding. Bouncy dogs invited into the house, cat staring at possum with loathing. Priceless. Not sure that the son didn't deserve a slap upside the head for his help.

 

[LindaB220]

x2 heh heh

 

[perchie.girl]

Quote: That is too funny.... Mine would have calld 911... city boy.

deb