Percy the Possum on Patrol
Every night, just after the streetlights flickered on and the dogs settled down, Percy the Possum clocked in for duty. He wasn’t your average possum—oh no—Percy fancied himself the Neighbourhood Watch Commander. His motto? “No fruit left behind!”
Dressed in his sleek grey fur (perfect camouflage, he claimed), Percy began his rounds at Tim & Pat Burke’s place. Their fig tree was in need of a thorough “inspection.” He climbed up, took a few “samples” for quality control, and left a few chewed fig skins behind as his official report.
Next stop: the David & Louise at house 64’ veggie patch. Percy took his patrol very seriously here. He inspected every tomato, sniffed every cucumber, and performed a full taste test on three strawberries—just to be sure they were safe for human consumption.
By midnight, Percy was waddling slightly. But duty called! He made his way over the fence to the Jean & Ian’s at house 65 – compost bin, where he found what he referred to as “classified leftovers.” A half-eaten banana, some stale bread—critical evidence, obviously.
At 2 a.m., Percy stopped on the garden shed roof to write his nightly notes (which looked suspiciously like droppings). From up high, he surveyed his territory with pride. The neighbourhood was peaceful, the fruit supply secure, and the cats properly terrified.
When dawn broke, Percy returned home to his tree in Kookaburra Park with a belly full of “evidence” and a sense of accomplishment. Another successful night on patrol. The gardens were safe… well, safe from everyone except Percy.
Somewhere down the street, Mrs. Pat Burke looked at her ravaged fig tree and muttered, “That possum’s at it again.”
And Percy, already snoring in his hollow, dreamed of his next patrol—tomorrow’s shift at the Johnsons’ mango tree.
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Last night, under the suspiciously bright glow of the motion sensor light, we caught the culprit responsible for the mysterious destruction of our vegetable patch—Percy the Possum, looking guilty but not remotely sorry.
There he was, perched on the edge of the raised garden bed like a tiny, furry king surveying his salad bar. The lettuce was gone, the tomatoes were half-eaten, and one lonely carrot dangled from his mouth like a cigar. When I shouted “Oi!” he froze, gave me a look that said “You weren’t going to eat this anyway”, and then casually continued chewing.
By the time I made it to the back door, Percy had vanished—probably back to his penthouse in the gum tree, full and smug. This morning I found a lettuce leaf on the path, like he’d left a tip for the service.
I’m starting to think I don’t have a vegetable patch anymore. I have a possum buffet.
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Percy the Possum Meets the Gnome
Last night’s garden entertainment was better than any TV show. Our resident possum, Percy, was back out for his usual midnight snack. But this time, things took a turn when he came face-to-face with our new garden gnome.
Under the glow of the sensor light, Percy crept along the fence, ready to raid the bird feeder, when he spotted the gnome — short, bearded, and smiling suspiciously. Percy froze. The gnome, of course, said nothing. The two locked eyes like cowboys in a western showdown.
After a tense minute, Percy puffed himself up, gave a few warning squeaks, and took a cautious step closer. Still nothing. Finally, deciding the silent bearded man wasn’t a threat, Percy gave the gnome a good sniff… then jumped three feet in the air when a leaf rustled behind him. He bolted up the nearest tree, tail fluffed like a feather duster, leaving the gnome standing victorious.
So now, the bird feeder’s untouched, the gnome looks smug, and I’m fairly sure Percy’s plotting revenge. Can’t wait to see what happens tonight — round two of Possum vs. Gnome!
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Percy the Possum on Patrol
Every night, just after the streetlights flickered on and the dogs settled down, Percy the Possum clocked in for duty. He wasn’t your average possum—oh no—Percy fancied himself the Neighbourhood Watch Commander. His motto? “No fruit left behind!”
Dressed in his sleek grey fur (perfect camouflage, he claimed), Percy began his rounds at Tim & Pat Burke’s place. Their fig tree was in need of a thorough “inspection.” He climbed up, took a few “samples” for quality control, and left a few chewed fig skins behind as his official report.
Next stop: the David & Louise at house 64 veggie patch. Percy took his patrol very seriously here. He inspected every tomato, sniffed every cucumber, and performed a full taste test on three strawberries—just to be sure they were safe for human consumption.
By midnight, Percy was waddling slightly. But duty called! He made his way over the fence to the Jean & Ian’s at house 65 – compost bin, where he found what he referred to as “classified leftovers.” A half-eaten banana, some stale bread—critical evidence, obviously.
At 2 a.m., Percy stopped on the garden shed roof to write his nightly notes (which looked suspiciously like droppings). From up high, he surveyed his territory with pride. The neighbourhood was peaceful, the fruit supply secure, and the cats properly terrified.
When dawn broke, Percy returned home to his tree in Kookaburra Park with a belly full of “evidence” and a sense of accomplishment. Another successful night on patrol. The gardens were safe… well, safe from everyone except Percy.
Somewhere down the street, Mrs Pat Burke looked at her ravaged fig tree and muttered, “That possum’s at it again.”
And Percy, already snoring in his hollow, dreamed of his next patrol—tomorrow’s shift at the Johnsons’ mango tree.
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Percy the Possum Visits House Number 63
It seems Percy the Possum has expanded his evening adventures. After exhausting all the snacks in our yard, he’s now decided the neighbours’ garden is ripe for exploration — and possibly, chaos.
According to eyewitness reports (aka Tim & Pat from house 63 next door), Percy was spotted around 10 p.m. sneaking along the fence line, tail twitching like a secret agent on a mission. He made it to their back patio, where he discovered the holy grail of garden treasures — a bowl of freshly picked strawberries left out to dry.
With all the stealth of a furry ninja, Percy grabbed one, took a huge bite… and then promptly dropped it when Tim’s motion sensor light flicked on. There he stood, mid-snack, caught in the spotlight like a criminal in a nature documentary.
Pat claims Percy froze for a good five seconds, blinked twice, and then — instead of running — casually picked up another strawberry, sat down, and started eating again. Apparently, he figured if he acted confident enough, no one would stop him.
When Pat opened the back door to tell him off, Percy gave her a withering look, as if to say, “I’m the night shift supervisor here, ma’am,” and ambled off toward the fence — with a strawberry still in his mouth.
Now the neighbours, Tim & Pat, have joined the growing list of Percy’s fan club (or victims, depending on who you ask). We’re all just waiting to see whose garden he graces next. Rumour has it, the people across the street have tomatoes ripening… and Percy loves a good challenge.
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Percy the Possum’s Great Snack Heist
Last night, Percy the Possum made another daring appearance in our backyard — the marsupial equivalent of a midnight burglar, except fluffier and far less discreet.
It started with a suspicious rustling near the outdoor table. At first, I thought it was the wind. Then came a soft clunk, followed by the unmistakable sound of a plate sliding across the chair. By the time I peeked out, there was Percy — perched proudly on the armrest like he owned the place — helping himself to the leftover fruit platter from our barbecue.
He’d already demolished the watermelon slices and was halfway through a banana when he noticed me. We locked eyes. I froze. He froze. It was an intense stand-off — like a showdown at dawn, except it was 11:47 p.m. and I was in pyjamas.
Then, in one swift move, Percy stuffed the last chunk of banana in his mouth, waddled across the chair, and launched himself off the table with the grace of a slightly overweight gymnast. A crash, a thud, and he was gone — leaving only a tipped-over bowl and one very sticky pawprint.
This morning, I found him again — snoozing in the hanging fern, belly bulging, looking extremely pleased with himself. Clearly, Percy’s motto is: Why forage when you can feast?
If anyone’s missing a possum with questionable table manners and a taste for watermelon, don’t bother looking. He’s already booked his next reservation in our backyard.
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Percy’s Patrol Report
Good evening, residents!
This is Percy the Possum, your unofficial Neighbourhood Watch Commander, filing my nightly Patrol Report.
Time: 8:47 p.m.
Weather: Mild, perfect for mischief.
Objective: Ensure all fruit, flowers, and bird feeders are properly inspected (and tasted).
Report Summary:
I began my patrol at Tim & Pat’s place. Her fig tree continues to produce top-quality fruit. I took the liberty of sampling three figs to confirm freshness. Verdict: delicious. Recommend immediate replanting for future supply.
Moved on to the Thompsons’ garden for a security check. Their strawberry patch remains dangerously exposed. Conducted an undercover operation under the cover of a watering can. Three strawberries confiscated for… evidence purposes.
At approximately 11:30 p.m., I encountered local law enforcement—a large, grumpy cat named Mr Whiskers. After a brief but spirited negotiation (involving a hiss and a tail slap), I successfully withdrew without casualties.
Midnight patrol took me to the Johnsons’ compost bin. Excellent work by the residents there—banana peels and stale bread perfectly presented. I commend their commitment to possum-friendly waste management.
Concluded my route at the bird feeder behind the Wilsons’ fence. Emergency rations acquired. Birds will just have to wait until morning.
Overall Assessment:
The neighbourhood remains secure. Fruit stocks are in good shape (though slightly reduced for quality assurance). No suspicious activity detected—other than that owl that keeps giving me the stink-eye.
Recommendations:
Increase fig and strawberry production immediately.
Install more motion lights; they make my patrols far more dramatic.
Keep compost bins unlocked for ease of inspection.
End of Report.
Signed,
Percy the Possum
(Chief of Night Security, Snack Division)
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The Midnight Marauder
Last night, our peaceful garden turned into a comedy show — starring one very cheeky possum.
Just after midnight, the sensor light flicked on, and there he was: perched on the fence, eyes wide, tail puffed, looking like he’d just been caught breaking curfew. He froze for a moment, probably hoping I couldn’t see him (spoiler: I could), then made a daring leap onto the bird feeder — which immediately spun like a carnival ride.
Undeterred, he hung upside down, nibbling away, while the whole thing swung back and forth like a possum-shaped pendulum. Eventually, he lost his grip, did an impressive somersault, and landed squarely in the flower bed — dignity gone, but appetite intact.
He gave me one last look that clearly said, “You saw nothing,” and waddled off into the night.
So, if you hear suspicious noises after dark, don’t worry — it’s just our fluffy night-time bandit running his snack operation again!
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