Chapter Text
On a sweltering Saturday afternoon, Phillip carries a pitcher of fresh lemonade to his wife, Fran, waiting for him at the backyard table. Just as he sits down, they hear several screams from the Wilsons next door. Fran and Phillip exchange glances with each other before he sighs with the fatigue of a dad who’s been worn down by children over the years.
”I’ll get the net,” he tells her as he heaves himself up from the table.
Phillip snatches the pool net resting against their fence and he runs to their neighbor’s stoop and rings their doorbell.
A stocky Caucasian man with balding white hair in a bright aqua polo and floral swim trunks opens the door a few moments later, panting.
“Heya Phil, come on in. Heard our screams, didya?” the man, Rick, asks as he invites him inside.
Phillip nods with sympathy. “Yeah, thought you could probably use some help,” he replies as they walk to the pool in the man’s backyard.
A chaotic scene greets them when they open the sliding door. A blonde woman and two kids stand huddled together against the side of the house. They all watch a young boy screech in terror while he gets chased around the family’s pool by a young opossum the size of a large mouse. Two rat-sized joeys are in the pool, one splayed out on the pizza-themed floaty, the other one doggy paddling with its tiny arms and legs.
Phillip sighs to himself as he takes in the chaos and debates his plan of action. He drops the net and readies himself as the boy and his pursuer run near him. Phillip dives for the joey immediately after the child sprints past. The young possum tries to dodge his giant, swiping hand, but it’s no match for the seasoned opie wrangler. As Phillip lands on the soft grass to grab the joey, he’s grateful the Wilsons ended up choosing Kentucky bluegrass when they resodded last summer.
He grunts as he pushes himself off the ground, holding the small critter and lifting it to eye level for inspection. It stares back with its boba eyes as its tail wraps around his pinky, its tiny pink nose sniffing as it lets out a barely perceptible squeak in greeting. He uses a finger to lift its tiny pink paws to check for cuts and turns the opie over in his hand to look for any wounds. Once he decides the opie is in acceptable condition, Phillip tucks it inside his front jeans pocket and picks up the net to catch the two remaining possums.
“Oh no you don’t,” Phillip mutters as he watches the possums try to swim away from the edge of the pool. With a well-practiced scoop, he fishes out the doggy paddling opie. Then he uses his unreasonably large foot to halt the pizza floaty and picks up the last remaining possum with his net.
“Phew!” Rick exclaims in relief as he approaches Phillip. “Thanks for helping us out here, Phil. I swear you and Fran are like some animal whisperers.”
Phillip chuckles awkwardly. “Something like that.”
Rick’s family slowly approaches the two of them now that the threat has been contained.
“Thank you so much for your help, Phillip, what would we have done without you?! You really saved the day! These animals just seem to love our pool.” Rick’s wife, Laura, says.
“Oh, no need to thank me,” Phillip smiles sheepishly and waves them off. “What are neighbors for? And don’t worry about them coming back, I’ll take care of it.” he reassures them as he tries to excuse himself. He knows that tomorrow he and Fran will find a plate of freshly baked goods at their front door — proof that the Wilsons are ignorant to his family being the cause of their little cul-de-sac’s pervasive critter problem.
After a few more rounds of thanks from the Wilsons while the small possums clamber and try their best to escape, Phillip finally goes home with the opies in tow.
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Fran opens the door just as Phillip sets foot on the porch.
“You’re home! I was getting worried,” Fran says as she rushes Phillip inside.
“You know how they are, Frannie. They love to chat.”
Fran nods as she grabs the wet joeys from the net and starts drying them off on the couch with a dish towel. “Where’s the last one?”
Tiny, sneeze-like sounds emanate in response from Phillip’s front pocket. He sets aside the net and fishes out the final possum as he moves to join his wife on the couch. The three joeys make various sounds of protest as their parents dry them off and inspect them for cuts and scrapes.
“We just went to the Wilsons’ pool yesterday. Why did you have to go over again today?” Phillip asks the possums on the couch, incredulous. “And in your fur form?! You couldn’t have at least waited till night time for your mom to take you?”
A small pop bursts, and suddenly the largest of the three possums transforms into a human girl in a purple tee and jean shorts with short, wet, brown-black hair.
Maggie, their oldest child, shakes her head at her father. “Noooo, it was too hot today and we wanted to cool off,” the nine-year-old explains patiently as if she's talking to a three-year-old.
Another pop sounds and their second oldest, Junie, turns human as well, appearing in the overalls she picked that morning with her long brown hair damp and tangled.
“Yeah!” she nods eagerly, “and it’s more fun when they get scared and scream.”
The remaining, smallest opie climbs up the cushions and onto Fran’s back. It gnaws on her ear and hisses three times in a row, prompting Fran to grab the joey and hold it in her lap.
“Max,” Fran asks the joey, “are you having trouble turning back?”
The small possum watches her and hisses once in confirmation.
”It’s alright, take a deep breath,” Fran tells him calmly, “picture yourself in what you wore this morning. Do you remember it? You wore the navy t-shirt from Nana and the gray pants with cows on it.”
It takes a few agonizing seconds, but much to Phillip’s relief a small pop finally sounds, and the family cheers as a four-year-old boy with a mop of short, brown hair appears in place of the opie previously in Fran’s lap.
The boy immediately grabs Fran for a hug. “Thanks, mommy! That was scary!”
She pats Max on the back, soothing him. “It’s ok buddy, you’ll get the hang of it soon. You did great.”
“I’m thirsty,” Maggie announces.
“Well, we did have some cold lemonade,” Fran tells her pointedly, “but we forgot it in the sun when we scrambled to get you kids.”
Junie glances at her parents in askance. “I’m hungry,” she declares, “can I have some PB&J?”
“PB&J?!” Phillip repeats. “We just fed you an hour ago. How are you hungry already?!”
“I’m a growing opie!” She answers simply.
Phillip sighs. “Alright, let’s go make you a sandwich.”
He and Fran herd their passel into the kitchen in search of refreshments.