Possum chunks and chimney pucks

The sound first appeared when I lit the gas fireplace. I was dancing around the Christmas tree adding ornaments on a surprisingly cold evening. When the chunking sounds began I thought they were coming from the chimney. Exploding bricks? Falling chimney? Charred nest? Roasted rodent?

What year did I hire that chimney sweep? What century or millennium? Sure hope the Grinch isn't wedged in there. Chunk. . . . Chunk. . . . Chunk.

Got worried enough to put on a parka and walk out to stare at my chimney. No roasted marsupials or mammals. No flames or explosions. Just a new kid in the neighborhood practicing roller hockey. He's been hitting the puck into a big Rubbermaid tub every night with a regular rhythm. He seems like a nice kid, and self-motivated. Chunk.

© 2008 Nancy L. Ruder

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