Russian Possum Against Oppression | Teen Ink

Russian Possum Against Oppression

May 22, 2018
By GeneralCornyCornCorn BRONZE, Hampton, Georgia
GeneralCornyCornCorn BRONZE, Hampton, Georgia
2 articles 0 photos 1 comment

There once was a family of possums living in Russia: Mother Possum, Father Possum, and little Victor Possum. An awful plague took over Russia that turned possums into mutant killers. To escape the plague, the Possum family immigrated to America, and they wandered the Appalachian Trail looking for food and shelter. Unfortunately, Victor’s parents died from starvation only two weeks after their arrival in the States. Poor little Victor was left all alone on the Appalachian Trail. He was a poor, dirty possum immigrant, so the native animals despised him, and offered him no help. “Go back to where you came from, you pig!” they said to him.
On an especially cold afternoon, a group of deer approached Victor in the streets. “Look at the poor dirty possum!” they shouted. They pointed and laughed at him, and one of them even kicked him. Those deer were the biggest jerks that ever existed in the entire universe. Victor couldn’t take the ridicule any more, and he burst into tears. The deer laughed at him even harder, and he ran into the forest with tears still streaming down his face. Suddenly a wave of sound shot through the woods, and lighting crackled all around the trees. Out of nowhere appeared seven figures in black hoods. Victor’s heart sank into his stomach, and he began to scream at the top of his lungs.
“No, don’t be afraid little one,” said the cloaked figure in the middle. “We are here to help you.”
“Why would you want to help me? I’m just a filthy possum from a plague-infested country that no one likes.”
The cloaked figures removed their hoods to reveal human skeleton heads.  “When we see someone who has been bullied,” one of them said, “we come to help them, no matter where they’re from or what they look like. We are the League of Cloaked Skeletons Who Wear Cloaks”
“Why do you wear cloaks? And why did you mention it twice in your name? Are you extremely proud of the fact that you wear cloaks? What is so special about that? Is the cloak a big part of your cult? Does one have to own a cloak to join the cult? Or are cloaks provided after the initiation? And another thing… “
“Please stop asking so many cloak questions, we just needed a thing, okay?
“A thing?”
“Yes, a thing that will grab someone’s attention. Like they’ll see someone wearing a cloak and be like, ‘Hey that person must be from that really spooky skeleton coven because they have a cloak.’”
“Uh, okay then.”
“Anyway, we were all misfits once too. This cult—I mean organization— was formed to protect beings from those who treat them like garbage. We are going to teach you how to stand up for yourself.”
“Okay, I’m ready!”
The skeletons took Victor to their meeting place in a nearby cave, and he wiped his paws before entering. It was quite nice, for a cave. There were lots of potpourri bowls all over the place. Victor made himself comfortable on a navy-blue chaise longue and started admiring his surroundings. He had not been indoors in a long time. Along the wall stood seven fancy coatracks where the skeletons hung their cloaks. They slowly walked over to where Victor was sitting and handed him a cup of hot tea. It made his soul smile.
“Now, tiny possum,” said the leader, “let’s get started. First, you must learn how to kill.”
“Wait, no. I don’t want to murder anyone. I only wish that others would not judge me based on my appearance or where I came from.”
“But if they do judge, then you can kill them.”
“No.”
“Oh, all right. You just have to suck the fun out of everything, don’t you?’”
“The first thing you must have is CONFIDENCE,” shouted another skeleton. “When these rude animals see that you truly believe that you are awesome, they will start to believe it too. You, Little Russian, are a splendid fellow, and I am telling you the truth when I say this.”
“I- I think I believe in myself.”
“Say it with more CONFIDENCE!”
“I BELIEVE IN MYSELF!”
“Okay, good. Now you must spread your confidence with the world.”
The skeletons went into another room, one after the other. When they returned, each of them had on the fanciest of top hats and long black trench coats. They were the swankiest skeletons that Victor had ever laid his eyes on. Each skeleton had his own walking stick that was topped with an emerald. They began walking out the exit when one of them suddenly halted. “We need to make Victor look super fancy” he said. They all turned around, grabbed Victor by his hands, and took him into another room of the cave. The skeletons measured him with a ruler and crafted the fanciest purple suit they could imagine. They even made him a little top hat to go with it. Theirs was certainly the fanciest coven to ever walk the streets of America. The group teleported to the main part of the nearby town and formed a circle with Victor in the center. Each skeleton screamed and raised his arms, and this made the citizens curious. A large group gathered around them and pointed at the strange spectacle. The skeletons raised Victor up, so he was sitting on their hands. At first Victor was very nervous about the whole thing, but these skeletons had given him confidence, so he knew he had no reason to fear the rude animals.
The spectators were dumbfounded. “It’s a possum!” one of them said. They never would have expected a possum to dress so lavishly. Everyone was murmuring to their neighbor about how interesting he looked.
“SILENCE,” Victor shouted. “I have something to say.” To Victor’s amazement no one interrupted. No one laughed or pointed at him or called him names. “These skeletons have given me something I never thought I could possess: Confidence. I want all of you to know that I do not appreciate the way I’ve been treated since my arrival in America. Animals have been so mean to me without even knowing anything about who I am. The harsh words that have been spoken to me hurt, but I have decided that I will not let them bother me anymore. I am proud to be a possum and I am proud to be from Russia, no matter how bad the plague is over there. It will always be a part of me. Please, all I want is to be respected. That is all I ask.”
“All right, sure,” said the crowd. From that day forward everyone treated Victor with respect. Victor was so glad he met his wonderful skeleton buddies, and he lived out the rest of his days helping them assist other beings who had been bullied. The End.     



Similar Articles

JOIN THE DISCUSSION

This article has 0 comments.