Here is the story:
One evening the family dog decided to chase down and kill a possum in our backyard during dinner. The whole family saw it and as a result we decided to turn in early. The next morning I woke up for seminary and while I was getting ready to go my Mum walks into the kitchen and asks me to get rid of the possum that was still laying in the backyard..
I head out to grab a shovel from the garage and on my way there I check out the possum. I couldn't believe it. The darn thing was still breathing! Turns out the dumb dog just broke it's neck and it just layed there all night. I ran inside and told my mom what had happened and was planning on getting the gun to just finish it off nice and quick. Mum, in her infinite wisdom, insisted that it would be too loud and that she didn't want to wake up the kids. With out a viable plan B I walked out to the garage to see what my options were. The best option, to my young mind, was to grab the wood axe hanging on the wall so I could dispatch the possum quickly and humanely. As I tried to end the possum's life it quickly became apparent that this was going to be neither quick OR humane. I hacked for what seems like an eternity just trying to make sure the possum was dead. And then went to school.
Later that day as I sat in class the teacher looked at me and said "Alex, What is that all over your pants?" I looked down to discover the front of my good chinos were covered in gory splatter.
I looked up to meet my teacher's eyes and said "It's possum sir."
I should have used the gun.