A Virginia opossum wandered through the forest on all fours with seven adorable children riding on her back, squabbling with each other every step of the way.

"If I barf, I'm taking you all with me."

"Mom told you not to eat grasshoppers, dummy."

Leering back at her kids, the opossum mother rolls her eyes in annoyance and mutters, "Well this is what I get for taking a walk."

"Petunia's been in front all day!"

"The prettiest possum always rides in front."

"Try being pretty with my tail jammed in your eye!"

The opossum suddenly stands up, causing the little ones to scream in surprise as they're suddenly sent tumbling down her back and onto the ground.

"Bartlett! Stop jamming your tail in your sister's eye," she scolds, her tone clearly exasperated by their behavior.

"I'm Rowan. Bartlett was last little?" the little opossum explains.

"Are you sure? Who are all of you... Go away!" the opossum mother shoos at them.

"We're your children...except for him." Rowan cheerfully explains as he gestures to a stranger standing over them.

"A monster!" The opossum mom's eyes widen before she suddenly gags and collapses on her side, her mouth hanging open wide. Following her lead, the little ones start gagging and collapsing as well, scattered in different positions, though one of them keeps making exaggerated noises and movements.

"You gotta die faster!" one of the boys gets up to whisper.

"Meningitis takes a while," the overdramatic opossum explains.

"What did you pick?"

"Rabies!"

"Spontaneous combustion."

"Nightshade salad."

"Sepsis."

"Hey! I picked sepsis!" Two opossum girls say at once.

Annoyed, the mother picks herself up.

"None of you are doing it right! We talked about this. Dead things don't have to explain why they're dead," she explains, picking up one of her kids and carelessly tossing them aside. "Now we're gonna get killed for real." She crosses her arms and glares at them.

"Sorry, mom," the little one apologize.