It was a dark, gloomy morning on the seventh floor of Massey Hall this Tuesday. An innocent Alpha Omicron Pi was making her usual walk to the community bathroom — a place of comfort, fellowship and (in my mind, at least) naked tickling.
But this wasn’t like all those other mornings that ended in proper hygiene, gossip about which ATO slammed who and (in my mind, at least) whether making out with your roommate once made you a lesbian. No, this wasn’t like those mornings at all. This one would end in chaos.
“Megan” as we’ll call her here — due to pending legal matters — did not find the usual carnage of daily presentation preparation (make-up and bra stuffing) in the bathroom. She and the AOPi cleaning lady, Ms. Tammy, instead stumbled upon a possum. Less than a full screech later, the pair was standing a foot off the ground on the safe confines of a toilet. Maintenance and police backup were promptly called.
After hours of hostage negotiations and some guy named Mr. Robert carrying the little guy down the hall, the problem was solved. Now, the lovely girls are forced to deal with the emotional baggage and search for possum droplets.
The questions now start to emerge. Why did this happen? Will a Tri-Delt ever take me to formal? How does a furry-woodland creature make it up seven flights of stairs? Does Sean Penn know how to take a joke? Did someone perhaps place the possum on the floor, and if so what were his or her intentions? And if so, did this person contact me and tell me of his or her evil plan? And if so, where the hell did he or she get this possum?
We’ll never know really, I suppose. Except for the Sean Penn thing. If you didn’t see the Oscars, he’s a bigger retard than he played in “I Am Sam.” He’s got the “I’m a celebrity, therefore I know a lot about politics living in my sheltered world, so don’t make fun of me about it even though I complain about wars but I’m still loaded and wearing Armani while children starve in dictatorships” complex.
That’s more lame than my friend Matt who lives in Boston. (There you go Matty, you made my column. Happy?) Since I’m a journalist — meaning bringer of light, knowledge and such — I have cracked the UT Police database and ripped off the secret transcripts from the possum interviews.
Be CAREFUL! The following isn’t for the faint of heart or easily insulted. In fact, if you’re a Tri-Delt just go ahead and burn the newspaper.
(Recorded March 2 at 12:57 p.m. Detectives Smith and Duncan Interviewing)
OFFICER 1: Sir, can we get your name?
POSSUM: My name? Just call me, O.P.P.
OFFICER 2: O.P.P?
POSSUM: Yeah, you know me.
OFFICER 1: Enough of that. We need a proper name for our records. Do you pronounce it “possum” or “opossum,” sir?
POSSUM: “Oh-possum.” At least, that’s what his wife was saying last night.
OFFICER 2: You little piece of road kill … I’ll KILL you!
OFFICER 1: Detective Duncan! Calm down.
POSSUM: Duncan, eh? So does that make you Officer Donut?
OFFICER 1: Oh, I’ve never heard that one. Now how did you end up in the AOPi bathroom this morning?
POSSUM: I had to go to the bathroom. What do you think?
OFFICER 2: Look you little rodent … No more sidestepping! Answer the question or I swear to God I’ll throw you in the street and plow you over myself!
POSSUM: Yeah, just like a pig …
OFFICER 1: Now stop it. We just want to know what happened.
POSSUM: I felt frisky. What do you think happened?
OFFICER 2: So you decided to break in to a sorority dorm? You’re a little pervert.
POSSUM: Hey, frat boys are coming in and out of there like dirty old men out of Hooters. You guys don’t seem care about them. Besides the building was wide open. Metaphoric don’t you think?
OFFICER 1: No more jokes. Now why did you end up on the AOPi floor? Why not Delta Delta Delta or Chi Omega or any of the other floors?
POSSUM: I tried Tri-Delt, but the door was stuck up.
OFFICER 2: You mean stuck?
POSSUM: No, you heard me. Then I got to Chi O, but I didn’t risk it. I’ve seen some of their girls play intramurals. They could run me down, and I wasn’t in the mood for a squashing.
OFFICER 1: So then you went on to the seventh floor?
POSSUM: No, actually I hung around with the Kappas for a while … get it … I hung around … because we possums do that with our tails and …
OFFICER 2: We get it. Why the Kappas?
POSSUM: Well, they thought my tail was cool. I did some tricks. They fed me. It was nice. But they got boring, so I moved on.
OFFICER 1: Which leads us to this morning — scaring innocent young women … How do you live with yourself?
POSSUM: Look, they were sorority girls. I knew it would be easy.
OFFICER 2: Hey, good one. You know we’re going to have to put you to sleep now?
POSSUM: That’s fine. It’s not like I’ll ever get another date after this article anyway. Death seems to be a proper alternative.
(Recording Ended March 2, 1:19 p.m.)
I think the lesson here is that we all need to further appreciate our wildlife. You never know when a possum might be there waiting to jump you or offer some lame insult. So be careful.
We’re all really just one class change away from being road kill on Volunteer Boulevard anyway.
— Glenn LaFollette is a super-senior in journalism and electronic media. He can be reached at [email protected].
