So I've posted this just about everywhere, but if you have read it, take a look. Quite an interesting discovery.
Friday night, I walked out my back door to enjoy a beer on my deck. I notice a bit of funk in the air, and figured there was a dead animal back there somewhere. I feared it was under my deck. A place I don't intend to spend much time. Ever. I know I need to redo the border so critters can't get under there, I just haven't gotten around to it.
So yesterday after I got home from my run, I walked back there, and decided I was gonna go under, and figure out what the fuck smelled that rank. I hoped not to find a dead body, but I knew it was gonna be nasty. I threw on some crappy sweats and a hoodie, grabbed a flashlight and gloves, and prepared for the worst. Under my deck is a mess as expected, but there weren't any critters under there that I could see. I was also affirmed by the fact that it didn't reek worse under there which I would have expected had there been a carcass there.
So I begin snooping along the fence between my yard and my neighbor's. He's a bit of an eclectic guy, and I know he doesn't spend too much time in the back yard. John Sharpless is a UW history professor, my neighbor, and has been known to shoot coons from his roof with a .22. Not since I've lived there, more of a local legend. He also ran for public office a few years back. So I'm snooping through the weeds and pull back some branches, and almost PUKE.
It was like a scene from CSI. There was a fur ball on the ground that could have been a cat, or a raccoon, but it didn't matter because it was swarmed with flies and absolutely covered with maggots and other choice creatures. I stepped back to compose myself and looked again. It was pretty bad.
So I go next door to talk to John and it becomes one of the more hilarious encounters I've ever had with anyone. John sounds like a mix between Charlton Heston, Jimmy Stewart, and Sean Connery.
[Knock, Knock, Knock] (He doesn't have a doorbell)
John Sharpless: What's wrong.
Paul Mitch: Hi, I'm Paul from next door. (Since we have only met the day I moved in.)
JS: I'd shake your hand, but I'm in the middle cooking dinner and you'd get onion all over it.
PM: Not a problem. So the other day I noticed a smell in the back yard and...
JS: I know what it is. [Pause]
PM: Oh?
JS: It's a dead possum. Is she in the back corner?
PM: Yeah... I... was...
JS: It's a sad story, and kind of creepy. She was pregnant, see? She was having a hard time, I don't know what she had. It was like something out of a horror film. She was bleeding from her rectum. Having a hard time getting around. I'd stand over her, and she'd just roll her eyes up at me. Not scared, didn't feel challenged at all. It was really sad, she stopped moving, and you could see the babies still moving around inside her trying to get out. If we were on the farm, I'd 've shot 'er. But not in PC Madison. [grinning now] I'd hoped she wouldn't get too ripe. So what d'ya wanna do about her?
PM: Um I dunno, bury it?...
JS: See if tomorrow were trash day, I'd just put her in there. I know you're not supposed to do that...
PM: Well we've probably all thrown things away that...
JS: You didn't move her did you? She's still in the back corner? Yeah. I'll bury her. I'll take care of it tomorrow.
PM: Okay. Yeah that's great. I just wanted to let you know, I don't know how much time you spend in your back yard.
JS: Yeah, well I've been kind of avoiding the backyard... [with a rather hilarious grin, and heading back into his house] something kind of smells back there.
[and... scene.]