The Skunk Epic. A True Story. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR - THE AFTERMATH



Work was over. On the long ride down the highway, I had time to
ponder just what I had done.
Making a stone of my heart, I told myself that it was necessary. I
had to protect my family. Peppe had to die.

I tried to submerge my guilty feelings, but they kept swimming
frantically, scratching at the stainless steel bars of my conscience,
forever trapped in the have-a heart cage of my mind.
I told myself that it didn't matter. Nothing mattered now, not the
essence of the tiny life I had extinguished, or the guilt that kept
bubbling up to the surface of my consciousness like the last gasps
of a desperate weasel.

Nothing mattered except for one thought;
"Finish the job". I had to dispose of the body.

I drove forward, each ticking second bringing me closer to the watery death chamber I had created.

My murderous inhuman heart skipped a beat as I pulled into the driveway, and the smell of death filled the cold winter air.

I would have to work quickly, carefully, efficiently, but most importantly;

secretly.

What if the neighbors were watching?

Luckily it was barrel day.
If I did this thing right, no one would notice.


I chose 3 large heavy-duty contactor type trash bags, and I
approached the blue plastic tub which had now become the briny casket of my odoriferous dead enemy.

I lifted the lid, and looked
down in horror at what I had done.

Long bristly black and white tail hairs stuck out of the bars.

A green oozing slime floated on the surface of the scummy water, and pieces of the sardines I had used for bait were floating inside the
cage.

Had he regurgitated them, as he struggled for life?
... I didn't
want to think about it.

The smell was powerful and obnoxious, an insult to the senses.

I began to breathe from my mouth, but that only caused me to taste it.

I had to tip the blue bucket and dump the water to get the cage
out without getting my hands wet.

I groaned under the weight of it as I lifted, and the stinking brine splashed out onto the driveway.
I had to step back, as the tide of
liquid filth spread towards my shoes.
The smell increased dramatically as the wind spread it through the neighborhood.

The tub was near empty, and I could see the face of my victim.

It's eyes were rolled back in it's rat-like head. It's fanged teeth were bared in a final frozen grimace.
The claws of the animal were
extended infront of it's face, and I could tell that it had died trying to scratch it's way out of it's watery grave.

I lifted the cage out of the water and placed it on the driveway.

Then I looked around.

Across the street, my nosy neighbor, the loudmouthed
schoolteacher with the half retarded husband, was staring at me.

Her pug-like nose sniffing the air, no doubt.
I waved to her and
began pretending to put out the trash barrels.
I dragged one to the curb and waved again.

She did not wave back, she merely tilted her bulldog face toward the ground in recognition, and went into
her house.

I knew she was looking out the window now.

I crouched down next to the flat tire of my camper, where she could not see me, and I placed one of the bags over the mouth of the cage and opened the door of the trap.

It slipped, and the spring door snapped down on my cold fingers.

I didn't yell out loud,
because I didn't want to attract her attention.

The last thing in the
world I needed now was her half-retarded husband coming over to talk to me!

I lifted the cage and tried to slide the waterlogged lifeless carcass of the striped weasel into the plastic bag.

Somehow he got stuck in
the opening, and would not fall into the bag.
I had to reach in and
tug on the soggy tail of the rodent to free him from the trap.

I gagged and suppressed the bile rising in my throat.

With a liquid thud, the animal was now in the bag.It was heavier than I thought it
would be.

In order to tie a knot, I spun the bag quickly, and drops of
skunk-water spattered my sleeves, and the front of my coat.
I triple bagged him as fast as I could, and tied three knots on each bag.

Then I stuffed the corpse into a black trash barrel and dragged it to the curb.

Next, I had to dispose of the evidence.
The soaking wet blanket I
had used to commit the murder.
I triple bagged it and stuffed in
into another barrel, placing a pizza box on top of it to make it look natural.

It was the same pizza box I had blown a hole through while
testing my skunk gun, and giving my camper that flat tire.

All the evidence was in the barrels now, where it would wait overnight
for the trashmen to come.


I turned on the hose and washed down my driveway, which reeked
of death, skunk piss, and sardine juice.

I had to wash it down 3
times. with ammonia, lemon pledge, and white vinegar.

I also washed the blue death bucket and the cage meticulously.

Satisfied with my work, I went back to my normal daily routine, bearing the tremendous weight of my guilt, as I will for the rest of
my days.


The end.


-Kenny Hogan 2002