The opossum climbed over the fence of the garden wall and ran straight to the pile of dry leaf under the Nanche tree. She had decided today was an evening for partying and feasting. She carried fifteen little opossums on her back and belly, all of them bald and smiley. They knew they were in for an authentic feast.

The wanted treasure was under the dead leafs: tons of fermented nanches, also known as nature´s liquor. The opossum accommodated his progeny, gathered a bunch of nanches, thanked the gods for the blessings received and went on to get absolutely hammered. At first just her and her children, and then later with all the other opossums in the ravine, gathered under the garden awning, as if it was a block party. Ten out of ten, great party.

I was standing nearby on the opposite side of the yard, gardening tools in hand and looking like a sunburnt dumbass, working on a Sunday instead of enjoying life. I was about to surrender to my bald monkey condition and just get back to the hustle, when I heard these noises that could only be described as opossum belly laughter. So I put the scissors down, went into the kitchen to fix myself a michelada and ran back to join the opossum enjoyment. It was a very productive Sunday, strongly recommended.