My Recent Brush With Death And/Or Transfiguration
It's about 7 in the morning, and just an hour or so ago I saved our old dog Katie from certain bloody demise at the hands (claws) of an HIV-positive possum.
The HIV-positive label is courtesy of my Mom, because me and Dad were pretty sure that if it and Katie had actually gotten to tussling, Katie would've kicked its ass. But Mom said she wasn't afraid of the fight so much as she was of Katie being bitten and getting some disease.
I was lying in bed and I did that gradual-wake-up-to-parents-either-bickering-or-freaking-out-thing, and in this case they were (Mom was) freaking out. First I heard something about Katie not coming in, then mom was yelling about that animal we keep seeing that we think is a groundhog or something but kinda looks like a beaver. Then I heard Mom REALLY go apeshit and I yelled, "Is Katie OK?? Shine the flashlight on it!" Then she yelled, "Erin, are you dressed??" Then I asked again about Katie, and heard something about something "lying on its side, all bloody." So you'd better believe I leapt out of bed and threw on my shoes, primed for vicious battle.
I ran out into the kitchen where Dad was standing, looking out, with the door wide open, so first I yelled at Zamboni to get away from the door. This should've been some little hint to Dad, but it wasn't, as comes into play later. I started to go outside after the thing, but Mom, in a fit of adrenaline and snap problem-solving, armed me with a 3 foot length of inch-thick hollow plastic tube. Ah. A weapon. It didn't occur to me at that point that it was part of a pile of pieces of an old laundry hamper that would supposedly see use again, so I ran out the door right away and smacked it on the driveway, to intimidate the animal, breaking a little chunk off the end. I never did like that hamper anyway; it was always falling apart.
I could see right away that pussy ass PVC scare tactics from 30 yards would NOT do the trick with such a rough, wild creature. It was all of 30 pounds (Dad's estimate, not mine) of natty fur, solid muscles, and a powerful jaw filled with sharp, jagged teeth that could EASILY tear through reindeer and snowflake print cotton pajamas, skin, flesh, sinew, and bone! It was GORGEOUS! So I did what I had to do; I forged my way through the thick grasses and to the threatening creature, waving my weapon and taunting it in its native language:
"HISSS!!! HIIIISSSSSS!!!!" I didn't want to scream like a banshee and wake the neighbors.
Anyway, at the risk of being dry (I hate war movies), I'll let the action play out in its most natural, obvious format: that of an old-school IF game! But without the spellcasting. Because even though I USUALLY play mage characters, Erin is CLEARLY of the thief/bard melee persuasion. So I would've prefered to have been equipped with a dagger or a magic lute of enchantment rather than a PVC tube, but the resourceful troubadour does what she can with what she has.
On to the battle sequence (not recommended for non-MUDders):
*****
You are standing upon a driveway next to a respectably-sized yard in the middle-income area of Sterling Heights. Indigenous trees and grasses grow here without fear of being tended. A paved road runs east and west, along which passes the occasional car or minivan. To the north is a creek that is grown over with vines. You see a possible passage into the creek between dead sticks.
You see your dog Katie, fighting a huge, mutated possum.
You see a huge, mutated possum, fighting your dog Katie.
Obvious Exits:
East- An Oddly Decorated Kitchen
South- Plymouth Street
West- The Path to Grandma's House
Up- In the Branches of a Large Pine Tree
Daylight breaks over the Eastern horizon, and a diffused light pours over the yards and houses.
>inventory
You are carrying the following:
a pussy-ass PVC pipe
>examine pipe
Probably stripped from a hamper. Of the white plastic variety.
>wield pipe
You wield a pussy-ass PVC pipe in your right hand.
>equipment
You are wearing:
::Body:: white cotton reindeer pajamas
::Legs:: white cotton reindeer pajamas
::Wielded:: a pussy-ass PVC pipe
Your dog Katie's bite misses a huge, mutated possum.
A huge, mutated possum hisses threateningly at your dog Katie.
Your dog Katie is in excellent condition.
A huge, mutated possum is in excellent condition.
>rescue katie
You rush into the battle, heroically shoving your dog Katie aside!
Your crush misses a huge, mutated possum.
A huge mutated possum hisses at you menacingly!
You are stunned by its breath, but will recover.
You are in excellent condition.
A huge, mutated possum is in excellent condition.
Your dog Zamboni arrives from the east.
You hear Dad shout, "Zamboni! Katie! Get in here!!"
Your dog Zamboni rushes into the fray!
Your dog Zamboni's lick misses a huge, mutated possum.
A huge, mutated possum gives your dog Zamboni a dirty look!
Your dog Zamboni is in excellent condition.
A huge, mutated possum is in excellent condition.
You slowly regain consciousness.
>bash the fucker
Your attempted bash has no effect on a huge, mutated possum.
Your crush smites a huge, mutated possum!
Your dog Zamboni's lick misses a huge, mutated possum.
A huge, mutated possum become panic-stricken and attempts to flee.
A huge, mutated possum leaves up.
*****
So there you have it, folks. I DID get a decent hit on the thing, pretty hard, right on its spine, but it was like when I whapped the tube against the pavement. Didn't faze the critter at ALL. I think it was just tired of screwing around and wanted to retire to its Possum Kingdom (haw, haw) to laugh about my silly antics.
I tried to give the PVC pipe back to Mom, but Dad made a trophy of it for me.
Reminder: Detroit Crunkstar at Heritage Park in Taylor on Saturday, May 22nd. Time: 7 PM. Cost: FREE. Be there.
P.S. While hunting for a nifty Possum pic to upload, I found a website that described possums as "solitary nocturnal creatures that will hiss and show their 50 sharp teeth when frightened, but generally want to be left alone and avoid confrontation." So now I feel bad.
The HIV-positive label is courtesy of my Mom, because me and Dad were pretty sure that if it and Katie had actually gotten to tussling, Katie would've kicked its ass. But Mom said she wasn't afraid of the fight so much as she was of Katie being bitten and getting some disease.
I was lying in bed and I did that gradual-wake-up-to-parents-either-bickering-or-freaking-out-thing, and in this case they were (Mom was) freaking out. First I heard something about Katie not coming in, then mom was yelling about that animal we keep seeing that we think is a groundhog or something but kinda looks like a beaver. Then I heard Mom REALLY go apeshit and I yelled, "Is Katie OK?? Shine the flashlight on it!" Then she yelled, "Erin, are you dressed??" Then I asked again about Katie, and heard something about something "lying on its side, all bloody." So you'd better believe I leapt out of bed and threw on my shoes, primed for vicious battle.
I ran out into the kitchen where Dad was standing, looking out, with the door wide open, so first I yelled at Zamboni to get away from the door. This should've been some little hint to Dad, but it wasn't, as comes into play later. I started to go outside after the thing, but Mom, in a fit of adrenaline and snap problem-solving, armed me with a 3 foot length of inch-thick hollow plastic tube. Ah. A weapon. It didn't occur to me at that point that it was part of a pile of pieces of an old laundry hamper that would supposedly see use again, so I ran out the door right away and smacked it on the driveway, to intimidate the animal, breaking a little chunk off the end. I never did like that hamper anyway; it was always falling apart.
I could see right away that pussy ass PVC scare tactics from 30 yards would NOT do the trick with such a rough, wild creature. It was all of 30 pounds (Dad's estimate, not mine) of natty fur, solid muscles, and a powerful jaw filled with sharp, jagged teeth that could EASILY tear through reindeer and snowflake print cotton pajamas, skin, flesh, sinew, and bone! It was GORGEOUS! So I did what I had to do; I forged my way through the thick grasses and to the threatening creature, waving my weapon and taunting it in its native language:
"HISSS!!! HIIIISSSSSS!!!!" I didn't want to scream like a banshee and wake the neighbors.
Anyway, at the risk of being dry (I hate war movies), I'll let the action play out in its most natural, obvious format: that of an old-school IF game! But without the spellcasting. Because even though I USUALLY play mage characters, Erin is CLEARLY of the thief/bard melee persuasion. So I would've prefered to have been equipped with a dagger or a magic lute of enchantment rather than a PVC tube, but the resourceful troubadour does what she can with what she has.
On to the battle sequence (not recommended for non-MUDders):
*****
You are standing upon a driveway next to a respectably-sized yard in the middle-income area of Sterling Heights. Indigenous trees and grasses grow here without fear of being tended. A paved road runs east and west, along which passes the occasional car or minivan. To the north is a creek that is grown over with vines. You see a possible passage into the creek between dead sticks.
You see your dog Katie, fighting a huge, mutated possum.
You see a huge, mutated possum, fighting your dog Katie.
Obvious Exits:
East- An Oddly Decorated Kitchen
South- Plymouth Street
West- The Path to Grandma's House
Up- In the Branches of a Large Pine Tree
Daylight breaks over the Eastern horizon, and a diffused light pours over the yards and houses.
>inventory
You are carrying the following:
a pussy-ass PVC pipe
>examine pipe
Probably stripped from a hamper. Of the white plastic variety.
>wield pipe
You wield a pussy-ass PVC pipe in your right hand.
>equipment
You are wearing:
::Body:: white cotton reindeer pajamas
::Legs:: white cotton reindeer pajamas
::Wielded:: a pussy-ass PVC pipe
Your dog Katie's bite misses a huge, mutated possum.
A huge, mutated possum hisses threateningly at your dog Katie.
Your dog Katie is in excellent condition.
A huge, mutated possum is in excellent condition.
>rescue katie
You rush into the battle, heroically shoving your dog Katie aside!
Your crush misses a huge, mutated possum.
A huge mutated possum hisses at you menacingly!
You are stunned by its breath, but will recover.
You are in excellent condition.
A huge, mutated possum is in excellent condition.
Your dog Zamboni arrives from the east.
You hear Dad shout, "Zamboni! Katie! Get in here!!"
Your dog Zamboni rushes into the fray!
Your dog Zamboni's lick misses a huge, mutated possum.
A huge, mutated possum gives your dog Zamboni a dirty look!
Your dog Zamboni is in excellent condition.
A huge, mutated possum is in excellent condition.
You slowly regain consciousness.
>bash the fucker
Your attempted bash has no effect on a huge, mutated possum.
Your crush smites a huge, mutated possum!
Your dog Zamboni's lick misses a huge, mutated possum.
A huge, mutated possum become panic-stricken and attempts to flee.
A huge, mutated possum leaves up.
*****
So there you have it, folks. I DID get a decent hit on the thing, pretty hard, right on its spine, but it was like when I whapped the tube against the pavement. Didn't faze the critter at ALL. I think it was just tired of screwing around and wanted to retire to its Possum Kingdom (haw, haw) to laugh about my silly antics.
I tried to give the PVC pipe back to Mom, but Dad made a trophy of it for me.
Reminder: Detroit Crunkstar at Heritage Park in Taylor on Saturday, May 22nd. Time: 7 PM. Cost: FREE. Be there.
P.S. While hunting for a nifty Possum pic to upload, I found a website that described possums as "solitary nocturnal creatures that will hiss and show their 50 sharp teeth when frightened, but generally want to be left alone and avoid confrontation." So now I feel bad.