I Smell A Rat...Or Something...
One night while I was in Maine, we were driving home from camp and had just tipped over the top of the hill by the house when we were hit by the tantalizing aroma of freshly startled skunk. We remarked on it and made our way down the hill towards the dooryard and there it was; lying in the road right in front of the house. We swung the car around, grabbed a shovel and one of Hefty’s finest and by the light of the silvery car lights, went to remove Pepe to a less prominent place than basically under Mum’s bedroom window. Mr. Skunk didn’t have a mark on him which raised a couple of questions. Was he just napping? Stunned? Or was he actually dead? Didn't really matter because all of these questions lead to the same very undesirable answer. Napping? Wake him up and you’re going to need a tomato soup bath. Stunned? See previous answer. Dead? You’d think this one would be the safest but no, touch the little fella with the shovel just right and muscles can twitch, mysterious things can happen and…see tomato soup bath above.
Turns out he actually had gone in that big forest full of grubs in the sky and we were able to scoop him into the bag without incident, tie it up tight and set it on the side lawn until he could have a proper burial. The next morning, I asked Mum…
Me: Is there anyone around here you hate?
Mum: No
Me: Anyone you dislike intensely?
Mum: No
Me: Hmmm (walking away)
(This same conversation when on several times throughout the morning until she finally broke.)
Mum: “There are people I don’t care for but I don’t HATE anyone! Why do you keep asking me that?”
ME: ‘Cause we have a dead skunk in a Hefty bag and that opportunity doesn’t just come around every day.” (Granted in the North Woods of Maine, it happens more frequently than in more populous areas, but still…)
I mean, I know people out here that it would be the perfect gift for but carrion carry-on is apparently frowned up by Chautauqua-A-Division-of-Delta Airlines. I saw a little kid get a Slim Jim taken away before he boarded so I know what I’m talking about. So with nary a gift recipient in sight, we gave Pepe a proper committal service. Them who came to the forest shall return to the forest. Rest in peace little friend.
Turns out he actually had gone in that big forest full of grubs in the sky and we were able to scoop him into the bag without incident, tie it up tight and set it on the side lawn until he could have a proper burial. The next morning, I asked Mum…
Me: Is there anyone around here you hate?
Mum: No
Me: Anyone you dislike intensely?
Mum: No
Me: Hmmm (walking away)
(This same conversation when on several times throughout the morning until she finally broke.)
Mum: “There are people I don’t care for but I don’t HATE anyone! Why do you keep asking me that?”
ME: ‘Cause we have a dead skunk in a Hefty bag and that opportunity doesn’t just come around every day.” (Granted in the North Woods of Maine, it happens more frequently than in more populous areas, but still…)
I mean, I know people out here that it would be the perfect gift for but carrion carry-on is apparently frowned up by Chautauqua-A-Division-of-Delta Airlines. I saw a little kid get a Slim Jim taken away before he boarded so I know what I’m talking about. So with nary a gift recipient in sight, we gave Pepe a proper committal service. Them who came to the forest shall return to the forest. Rest in peace little friend.
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