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Fatherhood was a big commitment. To be a father, you need to be a good role model. Responsible, thoughtful, that kind of shit. You have to do dad stuff, like bringing your kids fishing and teaching them how to play baseball, badly helping them with math homework and introducing them to awesome music. All the stuff that Jesse's dad never did. Whatever. Being a father needed unconditional love and dedication. Jesse wasn't sure if he would be ready for that kind of responsibility.
But when he saw the possum snooping around by the dumpster, he knew what he had to do.
It was the size of a large rat, or maybe a tiny dog. Whatever. The possum was the right size to snugly fit into the crushed twinkies box in the trash. It was downy, grey and friend-shaped, with tiny toes and a little pink snout. It had stood shivering in the cold, staring at him with big beady eyes.
They regarded each other warily. The possum let out a tiny squeak.
That was the last straw. How could Jesse walk away from the little guy?
He had scooped his new friend up in his arms and carried it home. He let it have the run of his house, watched in delight as it quietly scampered through each room, sniffing the skirting boards and exploring under the sofa. But as the hours went by he realised he was a little under prepared. He should have done his research. He figured he could do the next best thing so he picked up the phone,
"Yo, Mr White? You there?"
"Jesse-" Mr White's voice on the other end grumbled, "I told you not to call my house number-"
"Yeah, yeah. I get it. This is the last time, I swear. Look, what do possums eat?"
"What?"
"You heard me bitch, what do possums eat? I've been feeding my one doritos but I don't think they're very nutritious." Jesse passed his little possum friend another dorito. It snatched it in its mouth carefully and scampered away to the kitchen to chomp it down. He smiled.
"Jesse, are you telling me," He heard Mr White sigh. He was probably pinching his nose, his eyes closed in exasperation, "That you have an opossum, a wild marsupial in your house? And that you're feeding it dorito chips?"
"Well, yeah, that's what I've been trying to tell you! I found it by the dumpster-"
He heard Mr White sigh again. Jesse pictured him shaking his head.
"By the dumpster? Seriously, are you that much of a moron? You can't adopt rodents off the street Jesse, it could be carrying diseases-"
"Hey! Don't talk about Simon like that!"
"Who?"
"Simon. That's my possums name." He gave the possum across the room a thumbs up to let it know things were going to be okay. Simon blinked back at him in response and walked over to the nest of clothes that Jesse had laid out for him on the floor. Clever little guy. Jesse continued, "Anyway, what am I meant to feed him? You're the science guy, aren't you meant to know this kind of shit?"
He waited for Mr White to give out to him. To say I am not a zookeeper, Jesse. I'm a chemistry teacher, if you'd actually attended my classes you might have known that I do not specialize in possums. He waited for the click of a hung up line.
Instead, Mr White arrived an hour later with a pet crate and blankets and a bunch of other supplies. Jesse needed to feed Simon some dried bugs from a pet store container apperantly. Gross.
"Read this." Mr White said, pushing a bunch of sheets towards him. Printed instructions. He did his research.
"Wow." Was all Jesse said, standing there with the container of dried worms in his hands. Simon looked at it expectantly. Could he teach a possum to do tricks? To spin in a circle or play dead for a treat maybe. That would be cool.
Mr White refuses to pat Simons little head. He still won't stop complaining about diseases and germs and things. Jesse doesn't care too much. Though he appreciates the help. Thanks Dad! he had quipped before Mr White left. That earned him a confused look.
Jesse falls asleep on the sofa, Simon curled up sleeping next to him in his little crate like a dog.
*
Jesse realised he had made a grave mistake two weeks into keeping Simon as a pet.
He came home from a long day at the lab to find not one possum in the crate. There were six more. Tiny babies. Holy cow.
He didn't realise Simon was pregnant, he thought it was bloating. Jesse had been generous with giving him doritos as a treat after all. He must have been getting busy during his day's in the dumpster. But shit, six extra mouths to feed?
He stocks up on doritos and dried bugs. Soon the little ones are wandering around the floors, getting lost if they stray too far into the kitchen. He has to pick them up like beanie toys and carry them back to a weary Simon. Or should he say Simone, now? He isn't sure. He can't exactly ask.
Maybe he should draw Kanga-man a new sidekick. Possum-Guy and her tiny gang of crime fighting kids.
Jesse resolves to name each baby possum, but all the names have got to begin with S, Kardashian style, yo.
They all ride along on Simones back around the living room and Jesse finds it fascinating. Adorable. The discovery channel has nothing on seeing it in real life, yo.
He names each baby and snuggles them in fluffy blankets in the crate with their mother. They squeak and chatter for more worms. He obliges. He cleans up their poop droppings from behind the sofa and mops up their piss from the floors. Maybe he should get them a litter tray.
It's hard work being a dad.
*
"Okay, are we all ready?" He asks, opening the car door.
The dozen pairs of eyes stare back at him from the crate, big and adorable. Simone squeaks confirmation. Or at least that's what he thinks she's saying.
"Fuck yeah! That's what I wanted to hear! Let's go then!" He unbuckles the crate from the back seat and carries them inside to meet his lawyer.
Saul isn't exactly pleased,
"Whoa, whoa, whoa, we have a strict no vermin policy-"
"They're not vermin!"
"Okay, well, they're not welcome in my office- not on my papers-!"
Jesse picks Simone up from the desk. The babies are crawling around the furniture, exploring the office. Saul looks at his wits end.
Jesse shrugs, "So you're telling me Mike isn't here?"
"Yes, like I said kid, he's off on private business-"
That sucked. Jesse was excited to show him the possum babies. He even name one after him. The exception to the S rule.
"Can you get them out of my office, please?"
"Yeah, yeah, fine. But I need that permit remember? Mr White said so." A permit to own rare animals. Wise legal advice coming from the chemistry teacher who spent the past few months cooking meth in an RV in the desert.
"Fine, done. Just get them out."
"Can I introduce them first?"
Saul is waving a hand dismissively but Jesse ignores him.
"This is Simone, say hi Simone." Simone squeaks.
He picks up the babies one by one,
"This is Sarah and Sindy and Simon Junior and Scarface-"
"Scarface?"
"Yeah, bitch. Like the movie. Keep up- and this one is Mike." He holds up the smallest one with doleful eyes.
"What about that one?" Saul points to the largest of the six possum babies, which is poking its head out of Jesse's pocket. Shit. He forgot about that one.
"This one? Oh, this one is best," Jesse cradles it and looks up with a grin, "His name is Saul."
It works like a charm.
The permit is written up by that afternoon. Jesse even gets a glowing pat on the shoulder on his way out the door.
*
Jesse hated to leave the possums alone when he was at work all day. They had plenty of space to roam in the house. He left out lots of food and water for them and made sure their blankets are clean but he still felt guilty about spending less time with them.
But his job at the lab was taking up more and more of his time. He wished he could bring them along so they could watch their Dad at work but Mr White would probably die of a stress induced heart attack if he tried that.
Jesse's parents never let him have a pet growing up. He had had it all planned out too: he wanted a golden retriever. Big, friendly, full of energy. He would play fetch with it all day and teach it cool tricks and bring it for long walks. His parents always had an excuse. You're not ready for the responsibility, Jesse. You can have a pet when you improve your grades! First all this talk about being a boy, now this? Only one thing at a time- We can't get a dog, it'll scare your brother. So many lame excuses. It didn't matter anymore. He is an adult now, his own full person, with a car and a job and electricity bills and all that serious shit.
"Meet my family, yo!" Jesse throws an arm out as he welcomes Skinny Pete and Badger into the living room.
The possums chatter and scamper about happily. It makes him feel all warm and mushy inside. His kids are growing up so fast.
Skinny Pete lets out a low whistle, "Cool family, Jesse but uh, how do you tell them apart? They have names?"
"Of course they do. Really cool names actually-"
"Wow! Are those raccoons?" Badgers gasps, picking Scarface up like a puppy and tickling his snout.
Jesse doesn't even respond to that.
The three of them spend the night playing Mario kart. Simone watches from her crate. Jesse wins the rainbow road level twice just to make her happy. The possum babies get fed popcorn by their Uncle Pete and fall asleep on their Uncle Badger's lap.
Jesse smiles. His parents' excuses were all dumb, he realises that now. The possums are good for him and he likes having them around. Same goes for Skinny Pete and Badger.
This is a pretty good family he's chosen for himself. Apart from meth and money and a new boss, they're all he needs really.
*
"So like, I'm thinking, whoa I can't leave this possum all alone living in the trash! It's not safe! She could get hurt, you know? It's dangerous out there."
Today is a pick up day. Jesse gets to tag along while Mike takes care of important delivery and negotiation stuff. Or at least, that's what Jesse thinks is involved. He isn't really sure. All he does is stay in the car and try not to die of boredom. Thank God they're heading back the way they came now.
Jesse wants to be at home with his possum kids, watching the nature discovery channels together. The ones about whales and deep ocean shit are having reruns all week. Plus, Mike isn't even listening to him anyway.
"I'm like, a good father to them, seriously! I feed them worms and I play with them. They're litter trained too! Hey, did you know all the guides say you're meant to do this thing called gentle parenting? Yeah, it's about treating your kid like they're their own person and shit. Empathy and respect and whatever. It kind of rocks, honestly."
Jesse almost continues, I wish my parents had tried that shit with me. Would have been nice' but he stops himself and stares out the window at the blurry road instead.
Mike just sighs. It's one of his noises he does when he's thinking about something. Must be an old man thing. He stays silent.
Jesse messes around, traces along the car door interior, drums his hands on the dash, rubs his eyes and sings a song. He is bored. There is no denying it. And he has to fucking have it out already,
"So uh, something else cool I didn't tell you," He reaches into his pocket, "I named one after you. I hope that's cool with you. If not, I can totally pick another name. Maybe Scotty?"
He holds out Mike the smallest possum, wriggling like a worm in his hand, to Mike the man, who frowns.
"Jesse," He sighs a great big tired sigh and puts his eyes back on the road, "Put your possum away, Jesse. I'm not playing with your pets right now."
Right. Mike doesn't get it. Of course he doesn't.
"Fine. You could have at least said hello to him or something."
Jesse frowns and lets Mike the possum crawl around in his arms instead. A few more hours and he'll be home, he thinks. Then he can eat twinkies and chill all he wants and no one will let him down there.
They drive and drive until Mike pulls over in the middle of nowhere. Maybe this is the part where he makes quick work of putting a bullet through Jesse's brain and then he and Mr Fring will dissolve his body in acid. Who will look after the possums then?
"Look, kid," Mike turns to him, eyeing his namesake asleep in Jesse's lap,
"You're a good kid. Probably a decent father to your little group of rodents here. I can see that. You're sweet on them. Family is family, I understand,"
Mike sighs again and looks pretty serious. Who is Jesse kidding. Mike always looked serious.
"But you can’t bring them along, got it? It's a distraction for you and it's putting us off schedule. Plus I don't want to see your possum guy there get hurt in any way,"
Then Mike nodded in acknowledgement at little possum Mike,
"I'll let it go this time and I won't say anything to Gus if you don't, okay? You got that, kid?"
Jesse blinked, gears in his brain turning over. The sun was setting. He beamed,
"Did you hear that, little Mikey? This guy said I'm a good father! Hell yeah I am, bitch! I'm the best dad around!"
He laughed then. He could have cheered. Whooped. Given a few high-fives.
Mike said he was a good father. Fucking Mike of all people! Beat that, Mom and Dad. That's the best praise Jesse was ever gonna get. That's the best praise he would ever need.
Mike sighed again and pulled back onto the road. Jesse was insufferably chatty the rest of the ride, all the way home.
That night he tells the other possums all about it, Simone in his arms like a child. He glows with pride. Jesse Pinkman, good father and best cooking partner at your service! Just wait until he tells Mr White.
Jesse used to think he wasn't ready to be a dad. All that work and responsibility? He thought it was stupid but now It's growing on him.
"Who wants a dorito as a treat?" He asks and fetches a bag to share with his little family. A dozen eyes blink back in response, his kids scamper happily at his feet. They chomp on dorito chips together like it's a midnight snack. His possum family all happy together. Hell yeah, bitch.