The SCP Experience - Long Live The King | SCP-3778

Episode Date: December 6, 2024

SCP Foundation KETER class object, SCP-3778 This story was derived from https://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-3778 and is released under Creative Commons Sharealike 3.0. https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/ Author: Jake Bible  * * * DISCLAIMER: This episode contains explicit content. Parental guidance is advised for children under the age of 18. Listen at your own discretion. #thescpexperience #scp #scpfoundation #scpencounters #securecontainprotect #scpstories Learn more about your ad choices. Visit megaphone.fm/adchoices

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for the last six months, just chilling at my trailer, drinking Mamma Purdue's shine and talking about how the world is gone to hell. Then it really went to hell when that damn hurricane came whipping through. 27 feet of water rose and only a few short hours. There were tornadoes, which I ain't ever seen in these mountains before. Mudslides that wiped out entire hollers.

Old families lost in one fell swoop. Weren't pretty. Lucky for me and Grubbsnought, my trailer is up about 500 feet from the valley floor and nowhere close to a river. I did think a twister was going to take us out, but it hooked a left turn just before it got to the old ponder place, ripped right up to the top of the ridge, then went on over the other side. The wind tried to take the roof of my trailer, but I thought ahead and strapped it down with

big old ratchet straps I took from a tractor trailer a few days earlier. Before it all hit, we was hiking back up to my place when Grub Snout stopped and took a big sniff. Storm coming, he said. Dad won. His accent used to be like a little German boy, but after hanging out with me for half a year, he's talking pure Madison County now. When I tried to ask him how he learned to talk at all, he just shakes his head and says his parents taught him but they're gone now. He can be a little sad possum sometimes, but most of the time, He's a fun hang.

Okay, now you might think it's weird that I'm so cool about grub snout being a talking possum. But this is Madison County. We got haints and boogers and spooks. Lord knows what else in these mountains and woods. Being talked to by a random tree or even by a spectral shadow sitting on a trail ain't no thing up around here. Hell, my me-ma, not to be confused with my mamma, she once told me about the three sisters. one dressed in white, one dressed in black, and one dressed in red. They'd wait by the side of the road at night and call to men who should have been at home in bed

next to their wives. Many times, if those men didn't skedaddle back home right quick, they'd never be heard from again. So, talking possum? Sure, why not? Yeah, I smell the storm too, I said to grub snout as I adjusted the straps of my backpack. The groceries we'd just gotten were heavy as all hell. Nah, Grebsnout said and shook his head. You don't. I stopped and rested, acting like I wanted him to explain, but the reality was I was plum-pooped.

We'd finished off a quart jar of shine the night before, and I wasn't up to snuff. You lazy, Grubbsnout said, but I could tell he was feeling it too. Shut your snout, I said and took a sip of water. Personally, I tried to avoid the stuff when I can, but Mamma's Shine really done me in. Gonna be bad, Grub Snout said. Need to call family. Call family? I asked and gave a chuckle.

How you doing that? They all got little possum cell phones or something. Nah, just ears. Grub Snout said, and then he was lost from sight. I could have kept going without him, but like I said, Mamma's shine really done me in. So I took a seat on a fallen ash and rested my bones while I waited for grubsnought to show back up. It really was a shame what was happening to the ash trees. Them boar beetles or whatever sure have laid waste to them trees all throughout the county and beyond. Makes me sad some days.

After a minute or so of waiting for grub snout, an itch started in my ears. I rubbed my shoulders up against them, but it didn't do no good. The itch was deep in there. Then I heard a scratching noise, kind of like fingers on a chalkboard. Or would that be more of a screeching noise? Don't matter what you call it. It sucked balls. Called him, Rebsnout said as he hopped down from a tall pine a few feet from where I was sitting.

They knew. How much family you got round here, I asked. I thought you was an orphan. I'm an orphan, Rebsnout said. But got cousins, got aunts, got uncles. About two counties away. Two counties, I exclaimed. Ain't no way your family going to hear you from two counties away?

You're not here, yeah, he said with the huff. Possum here, just fine. I don't know about that, I said. You done being lazy? Grubbsnout asked, staring daggers at me with those beady little eyes. Maybe, I snapped at him. But I was. I got up and we walked all the way back to my trailer.

Then I fired up the grill for some burgers to go with the beers I bought. That grill ain't there no more. The wind picked it up and threw it all the way across the holler. Along with my patio furniture I stole from a vacation home a couple years back, and the cornhole set I just built a few months ago. Ain't nothing left around my lot except for my trailer and my dead Ford F-150. That piece of shit has refused to run since 2013, so no hurricane was going to make it move neither.

After the storm passed, a week went by before V-170. Grub snout and me figured we should go see what happened to the rest of the world. So we hiked it down to the Morgan's place. Except it weren't there no more. That log cabin, not to have been 200 years old, and had made it through some storms, fires, and landslides. But something got to have your number someday. Looked like that day came for the Morgan's cabin.

Hello? I called out, not wanting to get shot by Calder Morgan. He was a nice enough sort. But if he felt you was trespassing, he'd fill you with birdshot faster than you could hit your bridges to run away. There weren't no answer. Just devastation. That's when Grubbsnout spotted him.

The whole family. Calder and his wife, Jeannie. They're two teen twins, Brian and Ryan, and their mamma. I think it was Calder's maw, but I ain't sure. Dead, Grubbsnout said, as his eyes zeroed in on the bodies up in the great white oak. that marked the start of their property. I saw him, and grubby was right. They was dead for sure.

No ifs, ands, or butts about it. Tornado must have picked them up, I said, seeing the swath of destruction straight through their place. Their bodies were all swelled up in puffy. Crows and buzzards were pecking at them from the oak's limbs. A squirrel was yelling something awful at them birds, but I don't speak squirrel, so I had no inklin as to what it was saying.

Neither did Grub Snout. Keep moving, Grub Snout said, and I didn't blame him. We kept moving. Below the Morgan's place was the Reese Farm. Mr. Reese was out on his front porch, tinkering with his chainsaw. He yelled. Language! Came a shout from inside the house.

Hey there, Mr. Reese. I said as I came around their beat-up minivan. How you faring? The old man squinted out into the morning light, looking for the source of the greeting. I lifted my hand and waved. That you, California? Mr. Reese asked.

Yeah, my name's California. My mom had dreams. Not a one came true. Grubbsnout laughed. Mr. Reese's eyes fell on the little guy by my boots. Still got that talking rat, I see, he said. You make you sign your soul away yet? He ain't from the devil, I replied.

Then looked down at Grubbsnout. You ain't, is you? Nope, Grub snout said with a shrug. Nope, I said to Mr. Reese. Like I'm gonna believe a rat, Mr. Reese said. Grub snout hissed quietly, and I just stood there. How you fair up there? Mr. Reese asked, as he went back to tending to his chainsaw.

We's fine, but the Morgans ain't, I said. Mr. Reese looked past me and Grubbsnout, like he could see halfway up the mountain to the Morgans place. How bad? He asked finally. They's all gone, I said, and let that sink in. After a few minutes, he nodded like it was meant to be, then kept on tinkering with his chainsaw.

You going in for supplies? he asked. I was gonna, yeah, I said. Take the van, he said with a nod to the ancient car. Get everything you can, and we can store it in the barn. You can come on down and get what you need when you need it. I was only going to walk into town and get a few things for me and grubby. I said. Thanks, though. That got him to forget about the chainsaw for a second. Boy, are you stupid? He asked. It was a question I'd been answering most of my life, so I knew how to respond.

Not that I know of, I said with a smile. Mr. Reese didn't smile back. Boy, that hurricane done tore up this whole county, he said in a voice that told me he didn't believe my answer. You and you're talking rat ain't gonna just go get some groceries. Ain't no groceries to get. What do you mean? I asked, confused. Don't you listen to the radio? He asked.

Radio? I replied and looked down at Grubbsnout. He shrugged. Kids these days, Mr. Reese said. You're going to want to go into the AB Tech campus. That's where the disaster relief supplies are. You fill up the back of the van with anything and everything they will give you. Come back here and I'll fix Betsy up and we'll haul you some supplies.

to your place. Yeah, good idea, I said, thinking of Betsy. RBC Training Ground has discovered potential in over 20,000 Canadian athletes and counting. Your story could be next. If you've got the drive, they'll help you find your path to the Olympics. Let's see what you've got.

Sign up for free at rbc training ground.ca. The road was nothing but downed trees, so a mule was the smart way to haul some supplies. Is it really not bad? I asked. Worse, Mr. Reese said. Then he went back to his chainsaw once more. Keys are in the visor.

If there's gas to be had, fill her up too. I only got so much cash on me, I said. The supplies will be free, he said. Use the cash for gas, if there is some. I knelt down and huddled with grubs knout. What you think? I asked. Boy! Mr. Reese shouted.

Stop yapping with your rat and get moving. You're burning. daylight. Listen to man, Grebsnout said. Okay, I said and stood up. We hurried over to the minivan and hopped in. It smelled of old tobacco and cat piss. I found the keys, and while it took a few cranks, the engine caught soon enough. Off we went. What should have been a 15-minute drive turned into an hour and a half. Trees were down, power lines were down. I even had to steer around a single why that had been knocked sideways onto the road. Scraped a little paint off Mr. Reese's van, but I doubted he'd notice. By the time we made it to AB Tech, we were about 40 cars deep in one

bitch of a line. What you gonna need? A woman asked as she came up to my window with a clipboard in her hand. What you got? I asked. I meant it to sound light, but the way she looked at me, I immediately regretted saying it. Sorry. How many people you get in supplies for she asked as she wiped sweat from her brow she was a pretty lady but I had never seen her before just me and the Reese's I said she blinked at me uh that'd be three people I said there was a hiss from the passenger seat sorry I said four of us the woman leaned forward and looked past me pets don't count as people she said what's it eat burgers Grubbs now said

All that woman did was raise an eyebrow. I didn't know her, but she was obviously local. We got dog food, she said to Grub snout, as if she was talking to a customer at a diner. You eat dog food, little possum? It ain't a rat, I said. Then her words caught up to me. Oh, you said possum. Sorry, I'm used to everyone calling Grubby a rat.

Why'd they do that? She asked, as she wrote on her clipboard, then handed me a slip of paper. Assums and rats don't look nothing like each other, and I've heard about you and your friend. You have? I asked. What are folks saying? Well, the nice ones are saying you gone nuts, she said. What the not-so-nice-ones saying, I asked. That you gone nuts, but they use meaner words, she said. But I guess you ain't nuts. Then she reached in and tapped the slip of paper with her pen, like it was no big thing to have a talking possum riding shotgun. Hand that to Norman when you get to the front of the line.

He'll tell you what stations to go to and to load up your supplies for you. You and your possum won't even have to get out of the car. That nice, Grewsnaut said. He curled up into a ball and tucked his nose into his paws. Grubbsnout tired. Like you was going to be loading anything anyway, I said and smiled at the woman. Thank you. You're welcome, she said.

You and your possum, be safe now, you hear? Yes, ma'am, I said it pulled off. By the time we made it back up to the Reese place, the day had left and it was twilight. Too dark to get Betsy out, Mr. Reese said when I stepped up onto his porch. It looked like he'd given up on the chainsaw and had switched to bourbon. The missus is making supper. Be ready in a minute. She's got the upstairs bedroom all made up for you and your friend. We can't impose, I said as I handed him the keys.

Those go in the visor. He said like I was the dumbest creature on the planet. Oh, sorry, I said. I do it, Grubbsnout said. I dropped the keys, and the little guy picked them up with his teeth and scurried over to the van. Somehow he managed to get up to the handle, crack open that door, slip inside the van, and put those keys where they went. When he returned, Mr. Reese nodded down to him. Andy little fella.

he said. He's good to have a round, I said. Supper is ready, Mrs. Reese said from the screen door. Thank you, but we don't want to be a burden, I said. We'll just take some water and spam and a couple bags of chips back to our place. We can come down tomorrow for more. Boy, it's blacker than a witch's cuder out there, Mrs. Reese said. You'll trip and snap your neck before you even get to the Morgan's place. The thought of having to walk back past them dead bodies,

up in that old oak, made me pause. I looked down at Grubbsnought and could see he was probably thinking the same thing. He shrugged. I shrugged. Well, that's awful nice of you, I said to Mrs. Reese. Well, try not to be a burden.

Son, I raised six boys and two girls, she said. You don't know the meaning of burden. Now, I don't know about, I started to say. Shut up, be happy. Grub snout said. Take gift.

Listen to your rat, boy, Mr. Reese said. Well, thank you both, I said. Mrs. Reese ushered us into their small dining room and we sat down to quite a feast. No dog food for grubs knout. That was for sure. There was mashed sweet taters and a whole ham. Rolls stacked to the ceiling. A bowl of fresh butter I could have eaten with a spoon.

Greens with bacon and topped off with fried onions. candied carrots, butter beans with thick chunks of pork belly, a pitcher of gravy, and two handles of bourbon. I ain't wanted to drink, as you know, California, Mrs. Reese said as she poured herself a good four fingers of that brown liquor. She took a long swig. But this is for my nerves while we get through this ordeal. Amen to that, I said and poured myself a little bourbon too. I looked over at Grub-snout, who was sitting to my left. You want some?

No, he said. Stay sharp. Stay sharp. What for? I asked as I sipped my bourbon. Family coming, Grub snout said. Family coming? Mr. Reese asked. What does that mean? Grub snout looked over at the old man and bared his teeth. I knew that was a smile. Mr. Reese didn't.

Don't you snarl at me, Mr. Reese said. I got a 12-gauge with your name on it if you start acting up, rat. No snarl Grebsnout said Smile, happy to see family Yeah, what does that mean? Mr. Reese asked What family?

You mean and kin like you? How many? They talking rats too. Grub snouts a possum, dear. Mrs. Reese said and filled her glass again. Her nerves were really shot, looked like. You can see that plainest day now that he's inside and acting civilized. Good taters.

Grubbsnout said as he's, snarfed up a couple bites of the ooey-gooey, buttery mash. Thank you, ma'am. See, dear? Mrs. Reese said, and I swear she filled the glass again. Civilized. I don't care. Nothing about the rat being civilized, Mr. Reese barked.

But if we's got company coming, then I want to know who that company is. Now many. That too much to ask, ready? Just a little heads up if we get a whole flock of talking rats coming to stay. They stay a trailer, Brebsnout said. And not rats. You're being rude, Mrs. Reese said. Don't matter how many is coming.

And ain't no need to hike all the way back up to that trailer of California's. We'll make room in the barn. Mr. Reese huffed and puffed, but he let it go. Thank you, Grub snout said. Remember what I said about haints and boogers and things being strange in these mountains? So the Reese's be an acceptance of something. And as strange as a talking possum weren't no big deal. And making room for the kin?

Well, that's just how mountain folk is. Not that Mr. Reese was all that accepting, as you'll see. But that ain't a black mark on the county, just a black mark on him. Mrs. Reese gave Mr. Reese a long stare. He sighed and finished what was on his plate, then stood up. I better go throw down some straw and fill the water trough, he said and then left. Mrs. Reese finished off her fourth? Fifth? I don't know. She finished off whatever glass of bourbon it was, then stood up and started gathering plates.

Very good, Grubstout said. Thank you. Yes, ma'am. It was delicious, I said and stood to help. No, no, you two stay right where you are, she said. I'll bring you some pie while I do the dishes. As soon as she left, I turned to Grub Snout and asked. Family? How many we talk? here. He looked up at me, then closed his eyes for a second. Oh, Klan, he said when he opened his eyes

again. Maybe 60 family. Sixty? I exclaimed. What's that? Mrs. Reese called from the kitchen. Ain't nothing. I called back. I was lying, of course. Sixty talking possums was more than a hair shy of nothing. King coming, Grebsnout said. King? King of what? I asked. Tribe. He said like, I should know what in the hell he was talking about. What tribe? I asked. Grub snout stared at me like I was the dumbest thing on the planet. And trust me, you ain't never felt as stupid as when a possum looks at you like you're some moron. You don't listen, Grubbsnought say.

I talk, you ignore. How do I ignore you when you talk? I asked. We've been chatting for months. But ask what tribe is, Grubbsnout said and shook his little head. I already tell. I'd tell about King, too. You know, listen.

Okay, maybe you did and maybe you didn't, I say. But we've been drinking straight moonshine since June. You gotta give me some slack here, grubby. Dumb nuts, he said and turned away from me. Here's pie. Mrs. Reese said when she came back into the small dining room. She looked back and forth between us as she set our plates down. What did I miss?

Nothing, I said. Nothing. Grub snout echoed. Well, it obviously ain't nothing, because you two look like you're in a spat. She said and put her hands on her hips. Out with it. Neither of us said anything. Instead, Grub snout looked at the pie and smiled.

Rubarb favorite, he said and took a bite. Hmm, best pie. Thank you, Mr. Grubbsnought, Mrs. Reese said. Dale ain't so keen on rhubarb, or so he says. I've seen him eat a whole pie. when I wasn't looking, though. It's really good, I said after taking a bite, and I wasn't lying. It was delicious.

We ate in silence as Mrs. Reese went back into the kitchen. When we was done, she came and fetched our plates, took them in the kitchen, then came back and sat down. So, what is the problem here? She asked us. King is kin and dumbnuts no listen, Grubbsnout said. Is he dumb nuts? Mrs. Reese asked, pointing at me. Grubbsnout nodded.

And you said you got a king for kin? Mrs. Reese asked. Grubbsnout nodded. And California here is upset by this? She asked. I ain't upset about him having a king for kin. I said. I ain't upset at all. It's just there might be close to 60 possums heading this way.

I upset he not listen, Grews knelt said. He's upset, not me. I said. I see. Mrs. Reese said and thought for a minute. Then she looked at Grubbsnought. Sixty possums is a lot of possum. Yes, ma'am, grebsnought said.

We stay up at trailer. Be no bother for Reese's. Oh, hush, that pointy-toothed snout of yours, Mrs. Reese said. Sixty or six hundred possum, don't matter. When I offer my hospitality, I offer it to all. Thank you, Grebsnout said. And you? She said, pointing a finger across the table.

table at me. I appreciate you thinking about any burden this place is on us, but it ain't your worry to be thinking about. You leave that to me. Sorry, ma'am, I said. Oh, hush now, she said and waved me off. Mr. Reese came back into the dining room, his bib overalls covered in straw. Did you leave any straw in the barn? Mrs. Reese asked, frowning at her husband's appearance. Tried to, Mr. Reese said, then looked at me and grubbsnout. I got it all, think. up for you. Plenty of places to bed down for the rats. Possum. Mrs. Reese snapped. Whatever, Mr. Reese said and then looked at me. I put a cot out there for you too. That's nice of you, Mr. But I didn't finish as headlights blazed against the windows.

Who could that be? Mrs. Reese asked and stood up. I'll go check, Mr. Reese said. Grubbsnout, tugged at my jeans. We leave, he said. Leave now. What? Why? Why? I asked. He sniffed the air. Government, he said. The government? I replied. What do you mean? Government here to take king, he said. I smell him.

Mrs. Reese put her hand to her chest. Now why would the government want to do that? She asked. Tribe broken with storm, Grubstown said. Clan's strong is to have king. Now time make move. Government weakened clan. Government weakened tribe.

government weak and possum kind see shot take it well that ain't so friendly of them mrs reese said and during this catastrophe too that's just rude rude grebsnought said yes mr reese returned and had eyes only for grebsnought they'd like to talk to you he said then looked at mrs reese and before you get all mad at me for not telling him to take a flying fart out of here they's armed Armed? Who's armed? Mrs. Reese exclaimed. Government. Rebsnout said. Mr. Rees nodded. We leave.

Rebsnout said. Leave? Mr. Reese exclaimed. You got half a dozen men with guns out there in my yard. Where do you think you're going to get to? Not here. Rebsnout said and looked at me. We leave.

Now, hold on, hold on. Mr. Rees said. His hands out and gesturing at us to just stay seated. This is the government. They are here to help with the recovery after this hurricane. With guns? Mrs. Reese asked. How does that help anything, Del?

I'm just saying that we should all cool down and not make any hasty decisions. He argued. They said they're just here to talk, as all. Make sure some treaty or other stays in place, the tribe or nation. But whatever they said, isn't planning on making any significant moves and disturbing the order of things. Disturbing the order of things? Mrs. Reese asked, then pursed her lips and stared hard at her husband. Del, how much they offer you?

What? Don't know what you're talking about, he replied. Oh, you sure is cotton do know what I'm talking about. She snapped back and held her hand out. Give it here. Mr. Reese shifted uncomfortably and looked for me to grub snout to his wife, back and forth and back and forth, until he threw his hand. up in the air and said,

Fine, they gave me a little scratch for our troubles. Mrs. Reese didn't say a word. She just kept her hand held out until Mr. Reese finally walked over and pulling a huge wad of cash from his overalls, plopped that money in her hand. Mrs. Rees' eyes went wide with shock. That has to be near $1,000. She said as she set the cash on the table and counted it.

Yes, sir, that's $1,500 right there. There. We leave, Grebsnout said. No shit. I replied and stood up. Thanks for selling us out. Don't you be throwing lip at me, boy? Mr. Reese said. Times ain't been easy before the hurricane. Gonna be a whole lot tougher now.

So you sold us out of the goddamn government? I snarled. No, taking the Lord's name in vain in my house. Mrs. Reese warned. Sorry, ma'am. I apologized. There was a loud honk from the car outside. They ain't going to wait forever.

And I don't want them coming in my house. Mr. Reese said and pointed at me and Grubbsnought. Y'all need to get your butts out there and take care of your business. We leave, Grub snout said. Damn, dang right. I said as I stood and smiled at Mrs. Reese. Mind if we slip out the kitchen door? I'll fix you some food to take with you.

She said and hurried out of the dining room. Me and Grubbsnought followed on her heels while Mr. Reese was right on ours. Don't you say a word, Del? Mrs. Reese snapped before her husband could open his mouth. She quickly packed us some rolls and some slices of ham. These boys are neighbors, and we'll treat them as such. You can turn around and march your old ass out there and give those government men that money back. You hear me?

Ah, come on, he started to protest. But a flash of angry eyes for Mrs. Reese shut him right up. Here you go, she said and handed me a Tupperware with our provisions. You two be careful out there. And we left. I don't envy Mr. Reese, with a tongue-lashing he was about to get. Luckily, we moved quickly across the small back porch and out into the yard, so we didn't hear the storm brewing in that kitchen.

A few more steps, we were in the woods, lost from sight, and lost from any light the sliver of moon was shining down on us. And that brings us to now. Go faster, dumb nuts, Grubbsnought says as he hurries down the thin trail that weaves between the pines and oaks and walnuts and locusts that fill these woods. It used to be funny when he called me dumb nuts, but now it just feels mean. But you slow down, I say as I shove yet another wineberry vine out of my face. The damn things are everywhere.

I'm not as fast as a possum. You have long legs, he says back over his shoulder as he skitters down the trail, his nose pointing up and down, up and down as he finds the way for us in the dark. No excuse. Yeah, well, these long legs are tired, I say. It's been a day. Possum sleep day, move night, Rubstout says.

I know complained during day, did I? Whatever, smart ass, I say and struggle to keep up. The guy is only a few inches off the ground, but those four little legs can hustle. We keep hiking through the woods, the trail growing steeper and steeper every few yards, until we're climbing switchbacks that I can barely even see. One wrong step, and I'll tumble my ass.

all the way back down to the Reese's farm. When we finally hit the ridge, I stop and gasp. Not because I'm struggling to breathe, which I am, but because the entire opposite side of the mountain is gone. I mean gone. It looks like someone came along and clear-cut it, then forgot to take the trees with them. Those pines and oaks and walnuts and locusts?

Yeah, not a one is upright. Every last tree is laying on the ground, with half of them all the way down the mountain. clumped up in a giant pile that has to be four stories high. Mudslide, Rebsnout says, and turns west to follow the top of the ridge. Move faster, dumb nuts. Kin is close. King is close.

Why are we in such a hurry? I ask, as I make my way around a rock and brush, to keep pace with him. King's sick, Brub snout says. Oh, I reply. I mean, what else do you say when you're talking possum friend? It says the king of the talking possums is sick. I think, oh, sums it upright. We hike for a good couple of hours before Grebsnout drops back down into the woods.

Hold up, I say as I struggle to make my way. I can't see the trail. No trail, Grebsnought says. Watch foot. He says that just as my right shoe catches on a route and I feel myself going over. I throw my hands out and catch myself before I break my nose. But my palms are all cut up and the blood starts to flow right away. I sit in the dirt and take off my backpack.

No time, get up, Grub Snout says. Look at my hands, man, I exclaim, and hold out my palms, knowing his possum eyes will see all the blood. Grubbsnout's nose goes high and he gives a squeak. They close, we go. He says, then turns tail and is lost in the darkness. Grubby! I cry and hear a loud hiss. Hush, Dumbnuts!

He calls back to me. Then he returns and tugs at my sleeve. with his teeth. Government is close. We go. Oh, the government is close, I say and get back to my feet. I wipe my bloody palms on my jeans, and I hope I get more of the dirt out. It hurts like a mother.

I thought you meant your kin is close. That too, Grub snout says. Off back the way we came. I hear voices, and I know he's right about the government being close. Ain't they got something better to do with their time? People have lost houses and family and everything. They should go help with that. With my pack on my back, I scramble after Grub Snout as he moves faster and faster through the woods.

I stopped trying to dodge the wineberry vines and locust saplings and just barrel through them, taking the scrapes and scratch as the best I can. Dumbnuts so loud, Grub Snout hisses back at me. Dumb Nuts is ten times your size and can't see in the dark, I snap at him. I don't know how many minutes go by before I almost step on Grub Snout. He has stopped at the edge of a small clearing. and is staring at a gray mound on the opposite side.

Ginn! He says, then rushes forward. The gray mound breaks apart into a dozen possums. They swarm around Grub-snout, all talking over each other as they greet my little friend. Hush now, the quiet voice says from where the gray mound had been. I squint in the dark and can just make out a small body lying there. Ging! Grub-snout says and hurries to the little body.

The other possums inspect me for a few seconds. then dismiss me like I'm last week's news. Dumbuts, Grubbsnought calls. Come meet King. Pardon me. I say to the group of possums as I walk by them, trying not to step on anyone's tail. When I reach Grub snout, he's crying and shaking his little head.

Not me, no, he is saying. Is you, yes. The possum king replies. It's a little harder to understand him. His accent is thick and sounds all German. or something. Grub snout not worthy, Grub snout says. The possums behind us all hissing unison. They say yes. The king responds. You kin, you line, you next. Other possum better, grbsnought says. Maybe. The king says. But other possum, not you, not grub snout, not kin, not line, it you.

Um, what are we talking about? I ask. King want me become king, Rub Snout says. The hiss is behind us return and are twice as loud. You? I ask and laugh. They want you to be king? I watched you snort moonshine up your nose just a couple of weeks ago.

Now you get to be king? I laugh hard. If that's all it takes, then I should be crowned God. Dish, dumb nuts. The king asks, Grub Snout. He nods. Yes, very dumb nuts. Hey, no, I say.

Then the clearing lights up as more than a dozen flashlights are turned on and directed at us. If you are armed, lay down your weapon now. The voice booms. The possums scatter and are lost from sight instantly, except for Grubbsnout and the king. I said to lay down any weapon you have. The voice booms again. They talk you, dumb nuts, Grebsnought says. Me? I reply and hold my hands up.

Um, I don't have no weapons. Just some ham and rolls. Take off the backpack and put it down slowly, the voice orders. I do. Then a man dressed in a black suit hurries forward from out of the flashlight's glare and takes my backpack. After a few seconds, I hear a voice mutter. No weapons. Ham and rolls confirmed, sir. A man appears out of the glare and walks toward me. What's your name? The man snaps at me. And I swear to God he's wearing sunglasses, at night, in the damn woods. No answer, Grubbsnought says, from down by my feet.

Yes, he will answer, Mr. Sunglasses at Night says. No answer, Grebsnout says. That order. In order from whom? Mr. Sunglasses at night asks. The king, Grebsnout says. I did not hear the king say that, Mr. Sunglasses at night says. Let me hear it from his voice and I'll consider it.

You have, Grubbsnought says. I hear the pain in his voice and look back over my shoulder. The king is on his side and not moving. Shit! I whisper. When did he die? When is time? Grubbsnout says and rises up onto his haunches,

which looks fine if you're a raccoon, but weird is all get out if you're a possum. The sound of footsteps comes from behind the glare of flashlights, but Mr. sunglasses at night holds up a hand and the footsteps go silent. Who is the new king? Mr. Sunglasses at night asks. Me, Grubbsnout says. And by treaty, I ask, you go.

Well, the storm tearing through here, the treaty is up in... Mr. Sunglasses at Night starts to say, but dozens of hisses from above shut him up. He turns and looks around, but the source of all the hisses is lost to the shadows and the tree branches above. We 200 strong, Grubbsnout says. 200? I whisper. I thought it was only 60. More than my clan, Breb snout says. Then he focuses on Mr. Sunglasses.

Bring whole tribe if government like, does government want that? Mr. Sunglasses is quiet for a few seconds, then shakes his head. That won't be necessary, Mr. Sunglasses says. Treaty good? Bresnought asks. Um, yes, treaty is good. Mr. Sunglasses says, for now. Government leave, Grubbsnout says. Mr. Sunglasses grumbles, then nods. We will be in touch, he says.

I live at Dumbut's place, Grubbsnought says. You call there. I don't have his... Mr. Sunglasses starts, but is ground out by hisses. Yes, fine. I will contact you there. Then the man slinks back into the glare of flashlights. The flashlights all go off at the same time, And I'm left with nothing but stars and shit dancing in my eyes.

Government gone, Grub Snout says after a minute. We go home. To my place? I ask. To our place, Grub snout says. You friend of King now, and King is thirsty. Thirsty for shine? I ask, hopeful. Thirsty for shine. Grubbsnout says.

Thirsty for shine. A massive chorus of possums echoes down from above. All righty, I say. Sounds like a part. Then I bend down. Oh, and grubs nought? Yes, dumb nuts. Long live the king.

SCP 3778 is an anomalous grapevine, vitus vinifera, that produces grapes, SCP 3778-1, which, when consumed by opossums, induce rapid neural restructuring, granting them human-like sapience and intelligence. These sapient opossums designated SCP 37770s, SCP 3778-A, display social behavior, organize into tribes, and actively share SCP 3778-1 with others, spreading sapients within their species. SCP 3778-A are capable of learning human languages, often reflecting regional influences,

and have rapidly advanced to a technological level comparable to the early Bronze Age. Their growing population and organization present a potential threat of an S-KKKD K-class dominance shift scenario. The foundation actively monitors and contains SCP 3778 to prevent further spread of its effects, working with international entities to limit its influence, particularly in Latin America, where opossum populations are most dense.