Topsy O'Possum Meets Turvy McCoon

Topsy O'Possum woke up from his midnight nap hearing a clanking noise. He glanced left and right from his upside-down position, then swung down from his branch and landed on his paws. He heard the noise again. It was coming from Mrs. Beedenbender’s garbage can!

Topsy saw a masked thief running away, clutching something in his hands. What? A thief in the neighborhood, disturbing his regular nap? That will never do! He jumped up and ran after the thief.

“Hey, you, out there!” he yelled, as the thief stopped by a stream. The thief turned around to look. “A raccoon! I should have known!” Topsy mumbled, getting closer.

“The name’s McCoon. Turvy McCoon,” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. He was holding an apple in his paws. It was intact, except for a brown splotch where someone had bit it.

Topsy stumped towards the offender. “Did you know it’s against the law to rummage in humans’ garbage containers?”

“Says who? I ain’t following no dumb sophinstricated laws. My law is called survival, plain and simple.”

Topsy blinked twice, twirled his tail, pinched his lips, and replied, “Sir, as long as you are on my territory, you shall obey my rules.” He assumed a karate pose.

“Hey, cool it, mister… what’s the name?”

“Topsy. Topsy O’Possum.”

The raccoon-thief’s eyebrows sprang up, and he exploded in a heartfelt laughter. Topsy stood there, frowning at Turvy. What an ill-mannered fellow, he thought to himself. Making fun of my name, right in my face!

“Hey, brotha!” Turvy finally said. “We could make a great team, you and I – Topsy-Turvy, get it? Be ma pal, and shake paws.” He held his paw towards Topsy, grinning sincerely.

“I have no intention whatsoever to associate with your kind,” Topsy replied, turning his head away from Turvy.

“Aw, come on, chum! Join me for a snack! D’ya like them apples, Tops?”

“I like clean, germ-free apples from trees. By principle, I never consume anything that has been disposed of in a waste receptacle.”

“Well, have it your way, pal.” Turvy stood on his hind legs by the stream and washed the apple slowly, carefully, extensively, while whistling a little tune. He peeled off the brown part with his claws, and washed some more.

Meanwhile, Topsy observed from a distance, thinking to himself that he never takes time to wash his food.

Turvy finished it up by drying the shiny red apple on his fur.

“Say, Mr. Turvy,” Topsy said with a weak smile, “I do apologize for my previous disapproving comments. I see that you have some class, as far as sanitary habits are concerned. Let us indeed shake paws!”

Turvy transferred his now spotless apple in his left paw and shook hands with his right.

“No harm done, matey. I knows you’ll like my company once you knows me. Everybody does.” He winked at his new friend and patted him on the back. Topsy swayed slightly forward with the impact.

Topsy gratefully accepted a piece of Turvy’s apple – even though it wasn’t quite snack time yet, according to his schedule.