Oo, baby it's a wild world

So I am not a big fan of nature. I prefer my nature in a scented candle, in a vase on my desk (note: if you ever get on my shit list, the most efficient way to get off the list is red tulips), or behind glass or bars at the zoo.

I am beginning to think the feeling is mutual.

Late Tuesday night, after a grueling week of finals, I was walking up to my apartment. I was fumbling in my bag for my keys when I heard a noise. Startled, I looked up and saw some sort of large albino rat type thing. It looked at me with beady red eyes. It was a possum! It made the noise again and I ran back to the car. After a few moments of controlled breathing, I said to myself: Jessica, it's just a possum. They play dead when they are scared. If you walk back now, I'm sure the thing is flopped out on the sidewalk and you can just tip-toe past. I walked back slowly to the sidewalk. The possum was still there, seemingly undaunted by my presence. The damn thing was sitting between me and the stairs to my apartment. I thought for a moment about taking the long way around, but then I remembered in terms of the hierarchy of the world that I was (supposedly) superior to it. So I stood my ground. I phoned a friend in my hour of need to ask the million dollar question: possums are a) friendly b)unfriendly c)rabid or d)the most deadly creature on the planet. He suggested running at it, like a game of chicken. I told him I couldn't: the whole point of chicken was to try to get the other side to call your bluff. This possum already knew that he had nothing to fear from me. He suggested yelling at the possum. I took a few steps toward the possum, took a deep breath, and said "shoo". The possum flicked its tail, considered my words for a moment, and then came running at me. I screamed and ran the rest of the way down the sidewalk, dropping my handbag. When I turned around again, I had another thought: the reason that Man is the top of the hierarchy is because we have weapons. I picked up my handbag. My plan was simple: I was going to use my handbag to attack the possum, like an old lady would fend off a mugger. I looked at my handbag: I had received it free with purchase from Bath and Body Works; it was small with short handles. In order for it to be effective as a mace-like-weapon, I would have to get really close to the varmint. But before I could contemplate this further, the future roadkill advanced toward me again! Terrified by the bloodlust in his eyes, I threw the only thing I could get my hands on: my handbag. The bag sailed through the air and landed just in front of my assailant. He jumped back in surprise and scampered off, back into the wild foliage that is the landscaping around my apartment. Not taking any chances on a retaliatory attack from the possum's posse, I grabbed my handbag and thundered up the stairs to my apartment.

I may have won this round with nature, but I'm not sure as to who will win the war.