On a perfectly normal day in Boonieville, the crowd for the dumpster fight had arrived early and was impatiently awaiting the match between Mike the 3rd and Bob. The owners of the pit fighting ring at the dump, Remus and Sandy, were feeling uneasy since it was the first fight without any snacks for the audience. As the bell rang, the crowd erupted in cheers. After trading a few quick jabs, two minutes into the fight, Mike pulled his signature move and ripped Bob's ear off.
"Serves ya dam’ right, ya opossum eater!" yelled Jen-Jeanie. As one of Mike's biggest fans, she couldn't resist taunting Bob, who had recently also resorted to eating opossums.
Tensions have been running high around Boonieville lately, mostly due to the extreme drought that had started to disparage the region a month ago. Ridden by hunger, some Boonies had begun eating opossums, which until now was considered an act of blasphemy.
Still charged by the fight, the spectators slowly began leaving the dump as someone shouted, "Fire! There's sumin a burnin ova there!" Off in the distance, a gray pillar of smoke rose into the night sky.
Two days ago, a colossal fire destroyed the corn silos out of all places. Boonieville's essential food reservoir was reduced to ashes and the smell of popcorn still lingered in the hot desert air. The food crisis had worsened overnight.
The Boonieville youngsters dealt with the tragedy in their own way, namely by partying. A long line formed in front of the Purple Cave. Some of them wanted answers, but most just wanted to forget the tragedy.
"I bet my mother's ass it was Teddy!" exclaimed Chad loudly. Teddy was known for his pyromaniac ways. Perhaps due to his difficult childhood, he was seen more than once setting dead bushes and old tires on fire."No effin' way, man! I heard a redhead was seen leavin' the silos that night, and Teddy ain't got no pigtails!" screeched Tiff while standing in line. A heated discussion about the potential culprit behind the fire arose, but Vance, the bouncer of the Purple Cave, had had enough. "Unless you got proof, I don't wanna hear no speculations goin' round the cave, ya hear me?" Vance bolted, as he let in the now quiet group of Boonies.
The atmosphere that night was special. Of course, the purple mushrooms that gave the cave its name played a part in this, as well as DJ El'Allien's progressive techno set. In lieu of the looming food crisis, the raving crowd felt more connected than ever.
At the bar, Buckley had just downed his fifth Mezcal and worked up enough courage to tell his best friend about two nights ago. "Man, I hate that we always gotta fuck in that dusty silo. Just because her sis's always at home. It gets my tail up! We were skunk-drunk that night, and after shaggin', we smoked one last ciggie and ran back home. Like we always do. But I dunno... I got this feeling, you know. Like... we had a part in all of this, I just can't remember straight."
Around 4:30 am most Boonies were still asleep. The most resolute ones, however, had gathered at the town square for different reasons.
Pastor Duke stood on one of the last hay bales and addressed his followers in a calm, yet pervasive voice. "Blessed be the Genesis. Let us recall his vision of the Benevolent Opossum and the price it paid for us all." As Boonieville's reverend cleric, Duke often found himself lately having to retell the history of Boonieville, especially now as morale in town was slowly deteriorating.
"Blah, blah, blah! Talk all ya want, brother! People are hungry and your bullshit opossum story ain't feeding no bellies!" Duke paid no attention to Tommy Lee, one of his two brothers.
"When the Genesis and his wife were on the brink of death after their RV had broken down and they had used up their supplies, all hope seemed lost. Yet, in the Genesis' most desperate time of need, the Benevolent Opossum appeared to him in a vision and guided him into the barren desert. It led our Forefather to an oasis and showed him how to forage the desert for food. In one last act of compassionate selflessness, the Opossum sacrificed its flesh. With renewed strength, the Genesis and his wife set up camp in the oasis and soon after, their four children were born. Without the Belevolent Opossum, Boonieville would not exist today!"
You could cut the air with a knife, for everyone knew what was about to happen. The "Oppostals" were hoping to stop Tommy Lee and his henchmen from blowing the horn for the first official opossum hunt. Since opossums are nocturnal, the "Opossum Eaters" had woken up early.
Standing apart from the crowd, Jane was secretly taking pictures of everyone present. Boonieville's most well-known artist Freeda Kaloo, who was cooking up her next big art project, had delegated Jane to gather clear portrait photos, which she would then turn into pieces of art to sell online. "Stop staring at me with them creepy eyes! I don't need nobody's permission to take pictures!" hissed Jane to Boonieville's shaman Shatasha, who frowned at her. Seconds later, grenades exploded in the distance and everyone held their breath.
Freeda Kaloo had just awoken. She tossed and turned all night, running through endless dreams filled with screams and explosions. But when she let in some fresh air that morning and the wind carried the smell of metal and flesh through her window, she wasn't so sure anymore whether it was all just a dream. The tension in Boonieville was slowly becoming unbearable. Where it was once commonplace to see opossums running around and some playing dead in the streets, the few opossums you could see were now actually dead and the rest in hiding.
Was this a reason to be concerned? Not for Freeda. She doesn't give two fucks about the opossum quarrel in town. "Whatevvs!" she exclaimed and made herself a cup'o'joe. Money was to be made and she did not want to waste a single minute. After all, she had a big gallery opening coming up tonight and had the laser light show all set up.
She pulled up the photos that Jane had snapped for her the last couple of days and got to work. She recently found a way to transform photos into paintings in an instant. Was it art? Hell no! Freeda doesn't even consider herself an artist. She just got her hands on a contraption that says something about "neural style" on it and with only a few clicks, Freeda proudly watched glorious artwork appear on her screen. "This for sure looks artsy, so it must be art for all that I know. This's gonna fetch me some good coin!" she muttered to herself and pushed the print button with satisfaction. Minutes later she hung up the portraits of Tina, Jeremy, Billy Joe and Weston in her gallery space overlooking the desert and set the laser lights to full blast.
Meanwhile, more and more concerned Boonies were showing up at the office of Boonieville's Mayor Pat. This morning several Boonies had found threatening letters in their mailboxes. "When I find out who gone done doing this and is blustering my Boonies, I’m gonna tan their hide!" yelled Mayor Pat furiously. For the first time in Boonieville history, Boonie lives were at stake!
