"Possum Puspa"

This is the story of a fine fraulein from Fredericksburg. Her name is Puspa, and here’s the tale of her gettin the nickname, “Possum Puspa”.
You see, Puspa was a hard working girl in that Texas town, got good grades, worked part time at the Lady Bird Johnson Municipal RV Park, and on a Saturday night would party just as hard at Skooters Road House out on highway 87.
Well, as usual, she was ready to have a couple of longnecks and get out to boot scoot the night away, and at first all went well. But there had been an ongoing fuss between her and Bertha, now the bar maid but once school friends with Puspa. Bertha blamed Puspa for taking her boyfriend, Lucas, away from her, but that just was not the case. Lucus just felt they needed time apart for awhile...but the truth was she had been adding a little too much beer and sausage to her diet.
Well, when she found out the truth, she really pounded down the Rote Grütze followed by a Heineken chaser.
Bitter and bloated, Bertha always carded Puspa whenever she ordered a beer. And Bertha would wait just before the slow dance to have her now boyfriend and bouncer Max remove Puspa from the premise stating she had too much to drink.
Well, this time was going to be different. Puspa was ready for this, and had a plan. It was approaching the golden hour of 9pm when they played the slow stuff. Puspa threw back 2 shots of whisky for courage and waited for the inevitable gorgeous guy to ask her to dance. This night it was Dan Simonis. She never had seen him before and she got moonstruck. “This one’s gonna be my Lone Star” she said.
Well, just as they were making their way to the dance floor, Bertha noticed how enthraled Puspa was and knew she had to ruin it. “Max! Floor!” she screamed. Puspa heard the cue, knew it was the exit mode, but desperately did not want to leave Dan’s arms. But she did, grabbed an empty bottle, and made her way to Bertha.
The bottle made its mark, but there was plenty of pudding padding on her forehead to just daze her a little. She came around the bar to grab Puspa. Someone yelled "Look out!" but it was too late. By the time Bertha got around the bar, Puspa jumped on her back and dug all ten claws into her bleached blonde hair. The flying tackle sent Bertha reeling forward with Puspa on her back. She hit a table and they crashed over it, collapsing it onto the floor with all 220 pounds of Bertha.
The fall hurt Puspa, but she wanted Bertha’s blood. So she pretended to be knocked out, to give her a few seconds to regain. That is what Texans call “Playin’ Possum”
“That’ll show her” grunted Bertha as she turned to call Max to clean up the mess. But lo and behold, Dan was keeping Max diverted with a little of his own roadhouse roundhouse.
Puspa knew this was her chance, Bertha’s attention was diverted. So Puspa sprang off the floor
and with all of her weight clipped Bertha in the lower back with her shoulder. Bertha buckled from the pain, and rolled on her back. Puspa dotted both eyes, and asked if Bertha was ready for a truce. “Arghhh...my back...heck yeah I’m through”
Dan had disposed of Max as well and he came to Puspa, asked if she would like to leave that place and have some pie at Friedhelm's Bavarian Restaurant. She took his arm and the rest is history..