Bush vs. Kerry/Musical vs. Marsupial

The Plan: The Ewe and The Flock munch popcorn and watch t.v. on Election Night and discuss government, politics and social studies.
The Reality: The Ewe herds The Flock to the emergency room, squirting Germ-X every few minutes to ward off influenza and discussing how antibiotics work, what a "gurney" is what the term "nocturnal" means.
The Background: I, The Ewe, was cranking up the computer and television, readying The Flock for a night of election-return watching and education in the workings of government. The girls told me they were going out to feed Georgette. Next thing I know, there is fierce screaming coming from the front door. I growled, thinking the girls were providing the neighbors with a knock-down-drag-out bit of entertainment. I got my game face on and marched smartly into the front room, ready to "be angry to them." I found that they were not screeching at each other, rather at some Monster on the front porch. Lovable ran up to me, screaming, "Musical got bitten!! A 'possum bit Musical's toe!!!" I thought surely I was misunderstanding something. I joined the girls in their display of sheer panic. "WHAT?! How do you know it was a 'possum?!! Where is it?! What happened?!" ACKKK!!!! Carnival and Lovable began spilling out details, while Musical stood bleeding on the white linoleum, wailing. The rest of us were much too busy panicking to comfort her. (Poor thing. Eventually, while I was calling the e.r., Carnival loved on her.) Seems that Musical had stuck her foot into the Taj Mahal--a house the girls made of cardboard boxes for Georgette. Musical was playing with the cat and the cat (Georgette) bit her toe. Carnival whisked off the top of the Taj Mahal to administer some much-deserved corporal punishment to the cat, but discovered, "EGADS!" it was *not* Georgette, but a Georgette-sized opossum. In fact, at about that time, Georgette came padding around the corner to see what the hubbub was about. The story goes that the girls and the 'possum all wore the same shocked expression when the truth was suddenly learned. After the initial shrieking, Carnival and Lovable ran into the house, leaving the wounded Musical on the front porch to fend for her dazed and bleeding self. (Whatever happened to "never leave a man behind?") Finally, she got her wits about her enough to come inside. My understanding is that the 'possum was, at that point, still in the box, hissing at the confused cat. Anyway, the doctor on the phone said we should come in for antibiotics, at least. I'm embarrassed to admit that we didn't even clean the wound before we left. I try to be a well-prepared mother, periodically rehearsing what to do in case of choking, or bleeding or head injuries, but I had never rehearsed wild marsupial bites. You just can't anticipate everything, I guess.
Finally, we'd calmed down enough to begin movement toward the van. Problem was, it was parked in the back and the outside flood light had burned out. So, we had to find the flashlight, which was not in its assigned placed. It had been moved during a thunderstorm last week. Finally, I found it. Armed with both the flashlight and a broom to fend off the swarming throng of crazed opossums which was sure to be circling out there, we went forward in a moving huddle toward the van. I wished, at that time, that I'd listened closer to The Ram's descriptions of the proper way to move troops. Even without the proper technical knowledge, we made it to the van and began the drive to the hospital.
A few hundred yards down the road, I ran over a 'possum.
When we got to the hospital, I had to retell the story. I could tell the emergency room personnel were trying not to enjoy it too much, what with an injured tot standing right there and all. Two hours later, we left, with a prescription for an antibiotic in hand. Part of what took so long was that the doctor had to get in contact with "The Experts" regarding the chance of rabies in opossums in our county. Thank goodness, the consensus was that rabies in an opossum here was highly unlikely. As we left, a gentleman we had waited alongside in the e.r. waiting room advised Musical to look first before she stuck her foot in any more boxes. She agreed that that was a good idea.
By the time we got home, the election was done with, except for Ohio, which is still not official. I waited up until 1 a.m. for the word from the Buckeye State, then gave up and went to bed. Definitely not the election night I'd envisioned, but exciting, nonetheless.
Well, must run. Y'all keep your wool dry...and watch out where you stick your feet.
The Ewe