Twas a bitter fight- no, BATTLE, to the death! And this time the death be at the hands of me humble animal slayer, Lucy the Dog. Possums, Ye Be Warned! Come a' tracken yer snouts roun' these parts agin, death awaits ye. And then rainstorms to increase the venting smell of musty death in the mornin. Ahhhhh yes, the smell of dead possum in the mornin is sure to awake ye spirit and turn yer stomach to the point o vomitin up last morrows supper.
Never again shall ye cross thy territory o' Lucy The Dog!!!
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