Sprinkles the Possum

So, it's been a while since I had anything interesting to report, but here's a good one from a couple weeks back...

Talked to a guy in Costa Mesa or some other horrible place in OC. He was in his 50s and wanted to sell off his 60s/70s cards that he had stashed since childhood. Usually in my wheelhouse, so braved afternoon freeway traffic.

It was Jenn's last week of work, but my daughter was already done with school, so I had BOTH kids with me for extra excitement. Long drive through brutal City of Industry, etc., traffic, during which they both passed out in the car seats. Arrived in not run down, but certainly not fancy, neighborhood of small tract houses.

Guy opens the front door, and it's one of those places where you can see straight through to the backyard, which was full of stacks of truck and auto tires. Joy. Guy is 50ish with 'stache and bleach-blonde hair and jacked out of his head on meth. Double joy. I was about to pull the plug on the whole adventure, when the wife shows up cradling something in a blanket in her arms and asks whether the kids would like to go to the back yard and see "Sprinkles" (full disclosure: I've forgotten the actual name, but it was something like that). I took a closer look, and she had a FUCKING BABY POSSUM that she was toting around like an infant, cooing and doting on it.

Uh... I don't know...

Sprinkles doesn't bite. She's very gentle.

Uh...

I turn to methman and he just shrugs with a pained smile.

Kids... do you want to see the opossum?

Uh... okay... The 7 year old looks at me like she understands completely how insane this is, but goes along with it. 3 year old thinks everything is cool. So, being the excellent parent that I am, I allow my offspring to follow a clearly demented woman with a baby marsupial into a backyard full of truck tires. God, now that I think this through, what an asshole I am.

Anyway, we look over the cards for a while. Lots of stuff that would be valuable, but in bad shape, so I know I can pick it up for nothing. There is an open window and the front porch on other side and the kids and crazylady have moved to there. She lets Sprinkles walk along the windowsill, where 15 seconds later, it takes a baby possum shit on the sill. I learn very quickly that possum shit smells like dogshit, except approximately 50 trillion times worse. Methman and I are quickly gagging and trying to not retch and I run outside in case I actually puke. The kids think this is all very funny.

So, bought em for nothing, sold them for a bit more, and still freaked out.