The Skunk Epic. Chapter 2. The War Begins...

CHAPTER TWO- THE WAR BEGINS


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In the days following our skunk attack we suffered. We couldn't eat in the house, and spent a fortune in sub shops. The smell pervaded everything. We lost lots of sleep, and when we did sleep we'd often awaken to a new skunk attack. Where was it coming from? I was convinced that the skunk was in the cellar, but there were no footprints in the flour around the sardines! Every time the furnace kicked in it blew the stink into the air some more. Each day we were glad to go to work early, and Mini-Me seemed eager to go to school and escape the stench. We dreaded coming home, knowing that nightfall would probably bring a new stink attack. I went on the internet looking for help, and learned as much as I could about skunks.I even went bto the library to find books about skunks.
One of the articles I read suggested spreading large amounts of Cayenne pepper around the foundation of the house.
The article said that hot pepper powder spinkled all over your yard would work. Supposedly it burns their paws.
I suppose when they lick their paws, they need a cold beer, and not having a cold beer makes them run all the way to the liquor store,where they might be run over by cars or even drink themselves to death.
I went to BJ's wholesale club and bought several large containers of hot cayenne pepper, but when I tried to spread it aound the lawn, the wind blew it into my face. The hot pepper got in my eyes and blinded me, like being maced. I spent the rest of that afternoon washing my eyes out.


I called The Fish and Game Department who informed me that it is against the law to kill the striped weasels. I was definietly willing to take the risk. I called Animal Control in Stoned ham and a very lethargic uninterested voice gave me suggestions, but this highly unmotivated public servant said that he could not help me.
In desperation I went to Wal Mart and bought a gun. It was an air canister powered pellet gun with a laser scope and it shot 22 caliber pellets. It cost me sixty bucks.


I bought a big flashlight too, just like the one Bob The Skunk Guy had.

Bob The Skunk Guy came out two more times, at a cost of two hundred more dollars, and set traps with sardines in them all over the place. We caught the neighbor's cat the first night. I could hear it out there screaming at three in the morning, and I had to go out in the freezing rain and let it go.
The next morning I did some target practice with my deadly air pistol. It scared me, but I needed to know if it was powerful enough to kill a skunk. It wouldn't make sense to shoot it just to get it all pissed off. It might just limp all over the place spraying everything.
I put a pizza box up next to my camper to see how powerful the gun was. I shot the pizza box, pretending it was a flat square cardboard skunk. It went right though both sides of the pizza box, no problem. I was impressed!
Later I discovered that I had a flat tire on my camper. I guess I shot a hole in the God-damed tire during pizza practice. I put the gun away for a while, and waited for night to fall.

It was just around midnight when the next attack came. I was sitting in my big chair sipping on a large beer when I smelled it. I jumped to my feet grabbed the giant yellow flashlight, (just like Bob's) and went to the second floor window and shined the giant beam of light down into my nieghbor's yard...and there he was!
He was big for a skunk, larger than a cat, with big wide white stripe going down his back. Pure evil was waddling beneath me. I stumbled into the closet and returned to the window with my pizza gun. Where did he go? The bastard! I opened the window and shined the light down and spotted him again. There he was, that terrorist bastard, waddling through the yard. I took drunken aim and fired! Ping! Ping! Ping! "Take that you bastard!" Ping! Ping! Then I realised that I was missing the skunk but hitting the side of my neighbors house quite well. The polecat waddled around behind the house towards the barn and I continued firing, proving beyond the shadow of a doubt that I could indeed hit the broad side of a barn. I don't think I hit the skunk though and he moved into the darkness unscathed.
Disgusted with my marksmanship, I went back to my big chair and had another large beer, to think things over. I read my skunk book and pondered the problem well into the night. I began drinking Guinness and discovered that it gave me enough gas to cover up the smell of the skunk.
I considered a new plan: capitol punishment in the form of a new 50 gallon barrel, filled with 49 gallons of water, and a gallon of anti-freeze. Capture and execution by drowning would be preferable to pellet gun firing squads. It could also prevent me from getting arrested for carrying and discharging an illegal weapon in a residential area. Terrorism was causing the defense budjet to grow exponentially as the war lingered on.
The next morning I went out and spread more hot pepper aound the house being careful not to mace myself in the process. We made it through that day without incident.

Thursday morning,we were attacked by terrorist skunks again.

I got up about 5:30, no smell at all. I was beginning to think that the work I did yesterday had paid off.

I concocted a repellant solution that I downloaded off the internet. I sprayed my entire lawn with this mixture of castor oil lemon pledge and water. I also neutralized the smell in the cellar using white vinegar... and again, the rags with ammonia were placed all over the place. We have candles going upstairs most of the time, and I use this citrus spray in the vents.



NOTHING WORKS.




When today's assault occurred, I went to the second floor window and watched.



It wasn't long before I saw the assailant, a small black skunk, much smaller and blacker than the one I saw 2 nights ago. He was being chased by a fluffy multi-colored cat. The cat chased him into the culvert, or gully, or drainage area, or whatever you call it, under Lincoln Street extension.

Even though I was only half dressed, I ran for the "peace maker" my extremely dangerous 8 shot air pistol, with laser scope. I threw on my winter coat, gun in hand, I paused by the mirror...From behind the glass in the mirror, I saw Clint Eastwood sneering back at me



"What are you lookin' at? Huh, PUNK! ...SKUNK PUNK! "

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Concealing the weapon in my coat pocket I headed out the door, determined to "make my day".



The cat ran away when he saw me coming. They can sense danger.



It was quiet...

...too quiet.



In my head, I heard the soundtrack form "The Good The Bad & The Ugly".



But then someone must have turned the station or something, and I started hearing "OOH THAT SMELL" by Lynrd Skynyrd.



To block that out I started singing "My Rival" by Steely Dan



Gripping the concealed handle of my plastic instrument of death, I sang into the sewer pipe under the gully, "My rival! Show me my rival!"

"Come on out and show yourself! Come out with your paws up! Make it easy on yourself, and you won't get hurt. I'll getcha five to ten in a relocation program up the Medford woods.

In six months time you could be swimming up Spot Pond.

It doesn't have to end like this!

What's it gonna be punk?"



The skunk, paralyzed with terror, was either frozen in fear far beneath the Stoneham sewer system, or else he might have escaped through a secret hidden terrorist escape hatch.

They're very well trained, these terrorist skunks.



Either way he didn't come out, I was freezing my nuts off because I had just taken a shower, and "Walkabout Willie" my deranged drunken neighbor was now looking at me, hearing me singing Steely Dan to a sewer pipe. Why, he may even think of ME as HIS drunken and deranged neighbor!

...and it wouldn't be good for Dirty Harry to be late for work.

So I went home unloaded and hid my dangerous bb pistol high in the closet, because let's face it; any heater that can blow a hole in a pizza box could do some serious damage if I leave it lying around. I put the trigger guard on it, and went to work.



He who sniffs and runs away, lives to fight another day.



"Peppe' Le Pew must die!" I vowed.



My friends were full of suggestions. "You need to shoot the cat, and maybe the skunk will stop spraying" one said.

"When you do kill the skunk you should either have it stuffed or make a nice hat out of it," another suggested. "You could be like Daniel Boone!"



I set the "Have A Heart" trap each night and waited. Each morning I got up and checked. One morning I saw something in the trap and went out there, only to discover that it wasn't a skunk in the trap. It was a possum. Jesus are those things ugly! Have you ever seen one up close? They are truly disgusting! He snarled at me and everything! A rat with an Elvis sneer. I opened the cage and set his ugly ass free. Anything that ugly deserved to live.
Besides he kinda scared me a little.


...To Be Continued in Chapter Three... "The Capture"


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