When I was still turning wrenches the guy that worked next to me had the worst luck. A little back cloud over his head used to rain on just him.
Anyway one day I was changing a headlight and he pulled about 1/2 into his stall And shut off the car. He popped the hood and standing by the left front tire he reached over and raised the hood. When he reached in for the dipstick a live possum in the rear corner of the engine compartment snarled and made like it was going to attack.
I hear him shriek like a little girl and look up to see him backing up, arms windmilling. He hits the side of the car I am working on and between his arms and legs moving he starts to backstroke over the car. I’m not kidding he had an arm hooked in the open sunroof and was mostly on top of the car when he finally settled down.
We then did a possumectomy and released it at a local park.
Did you think you’d get away with this? 
Is your coworker’s name Joe Btfsplk?
To Cardinal Fang: The answer is No. Bibliophage deserves 40 lashes with a wet needle for such an unpardonable pun.
Awww. Little purr.
When I was in high school, I had a cat named Jean-Pierre (JP for short) He was a very friendly cat, but rather dim. Time passed, and I went to university. One day Mom called and said that JP had been asleep under the hood of the car and had gotten injured when she started the car. He was at the vet’s.
JP healed. After this, though, his jaw never quite fit right, and he would drool fairly often. He would crawl up in our laps and purr and knead his paws and purr and drool. I had to put a towel under him. The towel would get soaked.
But JP didn’t learn. I entered second year. Mom called again. This time, he was killed in the engine compartment of the car. 