New twist on the Memphis salute

Arnold is mad. He's really sullen because of the new garbage receptacle the county recently left at each home in the neighborhood. Awakened last night at 2:30am, I went outside to see what was making an awful thumping racket. There was Arnold running into the side of the huge, green bin. After standing on the end of the veranda watching him for several minutes he finally turned around and noticed me. He paused, looked to be in deep thought for a moment, then hissed loudly and made a profane gesture as he scurried by in his wobbling possum gate. He climbed the wisteria vine and disappeared into the top of the oak. More possum noises could be heard and at one time he leaned over the branch that is now his vacation home and pointed towards the 'Mom' tattoo on his arm. Hence, a quandary.

Do I tell the trash collection guys about his rage against the bin? After all, since Arnold showed up the neighborhood dogs and cats have stopped coming around to use the yard for, well, you know. Dead animal carcasses have been found in the neighborhood and there was that rumor of the Italian variety of possums, opossumus clamsaucesicus berettamus, trying to turn over a Ford Escort two streets over. Someone said they had mistaken it for a dumpster. For years the trash collection people have destroyed several cans purchased with my hard earned money and they laughed (I've watched through the window) as they bounced them across the yard. Yet, it worries me about not warning them. Will this make me an accomplice in some possum rebellion? Hope not, after all Arnold just showed up and there's no way a person can be asked to control an opossumus germanicus austriabodicus. Especially one that gives you the finger as it wobbles by...

"We are confronted with insurmountable opportunities."
-Pogo