Tattersail

the carcass smiled at me with a sickening grin through its pulverized lower jaw. "go on, kid, i won't feel it" he smirked at the stick i held in my hand.
"wait, you're alive??" i stuttered out.
"no way, kid, i gave that nonsense up a while ago"
"well, why would you do that, Mr 'Possum?"
"hadn't planned on it, to tell the truth. just sorta happened..."
"this doesn't seem to be better than being alive, good Sir", hiding the stick behind my back.
"'don't seem better?!" the fetid carcass exclaimed, "are you CRAZY, kid? no more trash cans, no more coyotes, no more hillbillies shooting at ya or letting their dogs loose on ya... nah, kid, this is what it's all about..."
"so, how did you get here, then?"
"not too sure. it was like some invisible hand with blinding bright lights. i told it i wasn't ready. actually, i sorta hissed at it a lot. then it just said, 'well, bub, you ain't got a choice in the matter' and so here i am."
"what about the vultures and stuff?"
"like i said, kid, it don't hurt. life hurts. so go on right ahead and poke. i just don't care no more."
i gave the dead opossum one good jab with the stick then carefully and as gently as possible moved its rotting broken body off the road so the next car barreling down the road wouldn't hit it...