Why Mr. Possum Loves Peace

Once upon a time, in a big, bustling forest, two friends were out for their usual nighttime stroll: Mr. Possum and Mr. Coon. These two were the best of buddies, always up for an adventure, especially when it involved munching on tasty treats.

One evening, after a grand feast of fried greens (Mr. Coon insisted they were “gourmet,” but Mr. Possum thought they just needed more butter), they decided to explore the forest. Mr. Coon, always the serious type, marched ahead like he was on a mission. Meanwhile, Mr. Possum, ever the foodie, was busy finding sweet persimmons and munching as he ran to catch up.

“Keep up, would ya? You’re eating like we’re at some sort of all-you-can-eat buffet!” Mr. Coon called back, rolling his eyes.

Mr. Possum grinned, “Hey, it’s not every day you find dessert growing on trees, my friend!”

Suddenly, their peaceful night was interrupted by a distant but growing sound—Mr. Dog’s barking. It was coming closer, and fast. Mr. Coon froze, his fur standing on end. “What are we gonna do if Mr. Dog finds us?” he asked, his voice shaking just a bit.

Mr. Possum put on a brave face and said, “Don’t worry! I’ve got your back!” But deep down, he was already calculating how many summersaults he could do before Mr. Dog got too close.

Sure enough, Mr. Dog burst through the bushes like a rocket, barking and growling, ready for a fight. Without a second thought, Mr. Possum did what he did best—he dropped to the ground and played dead. And not just any dead. He went full drama mode, as if he’d just fainted from seeing a ghost. If there were awards for pretending to be a pancake, Mr. Possum would have won gold.

Mr. Dog stopped, sniffed Mr. Possum, and thought, “Eh, too easy. Must be defective or something.” Then he turned his attention to Mr. Coon, who was anything but playing dead. Mr. Coon squared up, ready to rumble.

“Well, if you want a piece of me, you better bring a bigger bark!” Mr. Coon shouted, waving his little fists in the air.

Mr. Dog, not one to back down, lunged at Mr. Coon, but after a few swipes and a nip on the nose, Mr. Dog decided he had better places to be and dashed off into the woods, tail between his legs.

Once the coast was clear, Mr. Possum hopped up, all smiles, and dusted off his fur. “Whew! I almost thought I’d forgotten how to play dead there for a second!” he joked.

But Mr. Coon wasn’t laughing. He crossed his arms and glared at Mr. Possum. “You call that helping? You just lay there like a soggy pancake while I did all the work!”

Mr. Possum chuckled, “Oh, come on! You think I was just being a scaredy-cat? I was setting the stage! You’ve heard of playing possum, right? It’s a classic move!”

Mr. Coon wasn’t convinced and grumbled, “Some friend you are. Next time, try staying awake during the action.”

Mr. Possum grinned cheekily, “Oh, believe me, if it weren’t for the tickling! When Mr. Dog touched my ribs, it was like a feather attack! I was laughing so hard inside, I couldn’t even move! If it wasn’t for that, I would’ve been up and at ’em, swatting that dog left and right! You know me, I’m all about strategy!”

Mr. Coon couldn’t help but laugh, shaking his head. “You’re one oddball, you know that?”

“Yep! But you love me for it,” Mr. Possum said, grinning.

They continued their adventure, still the best of friends, each with their own way of handling trouble. And from that day on, Mr. Coon learned that sometimes, playing dead is just as much about smarts as it is about not getting tickled to pieces.

Once in a forest, so deep and so wide,
Lived two good friends, walking side by side.
Mr. Possum and Mr. Coon, they’d roam,
Under the stars, far from their home.

They loved to explore the woods each night,
Finding sweet fruits, bugs, such a delight.
Mr. Coon picked frogs, hopping near,
While Mr. Possum found fruits so dear.

One evening, after a dinner grand,
They walked the forest, hand in hand.
But suddenly, a bark they did hear,
Mr. Dog was coming, drawing near.

“What shall we do?” Mr. Coon did say,
“If Mr. Dog finds us on his way?”
Mr. Possum grinned, so brave, so sly,
“Don’t worry, dear friend, I’ll stay nearby.”

Mr. Dog burst through, with a leap and bound,
Mr. Possum fell, right to the ground.
He played dead, as still as could be,
While Mr. Coon fought, brave and free.

The fight was quick, Mr. Dog ran fast,
Mr. Coon had won, the danger passed.
Mr. Possum rose with a smile so wide,
But Mr. Coon now stayed to the side.

Next time they met, no friendly face,
Mr. Possum felt sad in this lonely place.
“Why are you mad?” he asked with care,
Mr. Coon just grumbled, “You weren’t there.”

“You played dead, you didn’t fight,
You left me alone on that fearful night.”
Mr. Possum laughed, a clever sound,
“I wasn’t scared, I stood my ground!

“When Mr. Dog touched me, oh, how I giggled,
His paws on my ribs, they tickled and wiggled!
I couldn’t move, I was trapped by the fun,
But I swear, my friend, I’d never run.”

Mr. Coon still wondered if it could be true,
But he smiled and said, “I believe in you.”
He learned that night, as they walked once more,
Courage and cleverness both have their core.