(dick is the opossum's name)

Reality was a ruse.
Dick sat leaned against the comforting embrace of an aged bean bag chair, trifecta of lit joints held in his mouth by a row of sharp yellow teeth and the bitter grit of pills remnant on his tongue. The heavy beating of his heart desperately trying to escape his chest pounded in his ears, quickening with every moment that passed. Olive eyes slowly began to dilate and his flesh began to tremble in waves of shock. He was beginning to regret his drug induced reprieve from the world, though intentional as it may have originally been.
Stray shavings of cannabis and scattered pills covered the floor of the dingy one bedroom apartment and stood illuminated only by a single tinted lamp in the corner of the room. The possum had told himself that he would be disappointed to survive this while riding the throes of a deranged stupor, but with the plan in motion and the painkillers being pumped throughout his bloodstream, Dick wished with every last bit of sanity left in him that he hadn't gone through with it.
There was no going back now. Consciousness began to slip away slowly, the feeling trickling from worn fingertips and being replaced by a dull and distant tingling spreading throughout his body which was unmistakably recognizable as the feeling of his nervous system shutting down. Collapsing against the chair fully now, the possum heaved with great difficulty through corrupted lungs. The room was spinning circles around him and granular fuzz clouded his vision, while trying to move was rewarded with absolutely no compliance from his limbs at all.
Cracked lips tried to part and form a plea of help save someone in the complex should hear him, but he was completely catatonic. Sounds of a rapid heartbeat were replaced with ringing that only grew louder and louder until... There was nothing.
Which is why the possum was confused when he woke up-- Not to the sound of his chest threatening to explode, but the melodious chirps and whistles of the birds in the trees surrounding him. Dick started up with a gasp, stumbling to his feet and feeling his paws sink into the trampled mossy underbrush. Tears still stained his cream cheeks as they had before, but he couldn't remember why they were there. Actually, he couldn't remember anything. Why was he here? Who WAS he? What was this place?
The only thing he knew in that moment was the confidence that this was home, and that there was someone or something that he needed to find.
He didn't know it was already looking for him.
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I decided that I would turn the last picture into an illustrated story sort of deal. So, here it is. I don't write very often so I'm sorry if the narratives that go with the pictures are kind of bad haha, I just wanted to try something new.

Recommended listening:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=rD0IBpRRkL4