If you're with PETA, this story is fiction

So this story is a few weeks old now, but one I need to write down so I don't forget it. It all started about a month before when our good friend Liz borrowed our kitchen to make banana bread. She was so thankful for our hospitality that she "donated" a rotten banana to a hidden spot in our kitchen and waited for us to find it. Well, several weeks went by and all we found was a biblical plague of fruit flies, leading us to a black, soggy, maggot-y blob in the bottom of a white, insulated tea pitcher in the corner. When I found it, I was immediately disgusted with whichever roommate could have left the pitcher so disgusting before finding out that Liz was the responsible party.
Brett and I naturally began to discuss revenge, and catching one of the raccoons that terrorize our trash cans and putting it in Liz's room seemed to be the obvious solution. Of course, we can't even keep them out of our trash, so catching one seemed to be only a dream.
Well, two days later I heard my loud, unfashionable ringtone blaring across the weight room and ran to answer it, only to hear a frantic female on the other end asking me where I was and what I was doing. After telling her, she explained the reason for her unrest, describing a "wildlife problem" concerning a huge possum that had gotten stuck in hers and Maryann's trash can, and they didn't know what to do.
I told her I knew exactly what to do and called Brett. We ran home and got a plastic box.
That box was then filled with trash and a possum and a little cat food as a snack, and it was placed in a certain girl's dorm room with a banana and a note saying, "We spell payback P-O-S-S-U-M."
Yeah, that was fun.