The Skunk Epic. A True Story. Chapter 3

CHAPTER THREE - THE CAPTURE:

I slept well last night. I got up this morning, very early, and looked out the window. Something was moving in the trap... not a possum this time!
I had captured my enemy! The terrorist had been confined! A black skunk witha big fluffy white tail was munching on the sardines in the trap.
It would be his last meal.

I ran upstairs and put on some old clothes, and prepared myself for the execution. I went down cellar and turned on the water to the hose outside.
The hose had been previously run, into a large blue plastic bucket, in my driveway, two steps away from the trap.
I then got an old blanket and went outside. Holding the blanket up as a shield, I slowly walked towards my dangerous prisoner. I threw the blanket over the trap, picked up the trap, and carefully placed it in the bucket of water. Then I got the hell out of there.

By now, Katie was up, and we both looked out the window at the bucket.
That's when the smell came.
I took a shower. I threw my old clothes down cellar.

At 6:30 am, Peppe the skunk was officially pronounced dead. I rushed to work, a little late but victorious.

I left Peppe' floating, motionless in his watery death chamber.
I considered a short memorial service to be held in the afternoon, VERY SHORT, due to the smell.
Peppe's body would be double bagged and dispersed to a secret locationn used for terrorists.
This was a victory in the battle against odiforous terrorism for Wright Street, but I knew that the war was not over.
Constant vigilance is needed, for all of us to breathe freely.


...To Be Continued....in chapter 4, "The Aftermath."

See Chapter 4 in the Blog Menu on the left.

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

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The Allosaurus

When I was a little boy, I had a best friend.
He lived across the street.His name was Kevin . I called him "Kevie."

We shared playpens, learned to walk and talk together, run, ride bikes, climb trees, and play with plastic army men and plastic dinosaurs in the tall grass being my mother's house.

We loved playing dinosaurs the best.

We liked the Tyrannosaurus and the Allosaurus the best of all.
Kevie loved the Allosaurus.

The Tyrannosaurus was green. The Allosaurus was gray, almost silver.
Their names were engraved on their tails.
We spent many happy hours pretending that our green plastic army men were attacking the dinosaurs.
The dinosaurs usually won. Those poor army men never stood a chance against our monsters.
Rifles could not stop the fury of Kevie's Allosaurus! Even a tank was no match for my T-Rex!

Kevie and I grew up and got to old for plastic dinosaurs, and life took us in different directions.

Many years passed.

One day when I was in my mid thirties, I stopped by my mother's house to cut the lawn.
I went out back in the tall grass, swinging a sickle because the tall grass was too much for a lawn mower to cut.

One swing of the sickle caused me to golf something gray into the air.
In a split second I knew what it was; the Allosaurus!

I ran over and scooped it up in my hand. I was thrilled to go from 35 years old back to seven just by holding the plastic dinosaur in my hand.

My first thought was of Kevie, who I really hadn't seen in many many years.

I walked over to his mother's house and knocked on the big oak door. His sister answered the door, but she didn't recognize me right away.

"Is Kevie here by any chance?" I asked.

"Kevin?" she said, "and who should I tell him is here?"

"Kenny"

He came around the corner with a big grin. "Kenny!!! Oh my god! Good to see ya! How are ya?" We hugged.

"Never mind how I am", I said in a false angry voice, "Stop leavin' you're stuff over in my mother's back yard!"

He looked at me, confused for a second. Then I held the little gray dinosaur out in front of him. He looked at it, then at me, and as I handed it to him, a huge smile lit up on his face.

"The Allosaurus!" he yelled, and we laughed until we had tears in our eyes.

---

Years went by...and I got a call. They told me Kevie had died.

I went to the wake by myself.

Getting out of the car I bumped into my old friend Johnny from the old neighborhood.

I hadn't seen him in many years.

We looked at each other and we burst into tears.

We hugged each other.

Neither one of us could speak. We just hung onto each other and let it out.

After the wake I drove home crying so hard that I missed my exit and drove for 15 minutes in the wrong direction before I figured it out.

I didn't expect that it would hit me so hard.

It's hard to explain the bonds of friendship. They go much deeper than you know.

We drift away from each other with time.

But the bonds are strong between two kids,
...and a plastic dinosaur.

How To Go To The Beach

The beach can be as boring as a Yanni concert UNLESS you do it right.

A few years ago I was happily unemployed, and I became a "Going To The Beach Expert."

I got one of those wheelie things you put all the crap on. A good move.

You can hang your lawn chairs and a ton of other beach crap on these wheelie things...
...oh, did I mention the CHAIRS?

Never buy those cheap-ass, Legs-Fall- Asleep, Arse-Busts-Through-The-Webbing Chairs.
You'll be as miserable as a constipated bungee jumper. You don't want that.

What you want is a Strathwood multi-position steel suspension anti-gravity recliner.

http://ecx.images-amazon.com/images/I/41ZqdCLH6zL._SL500_AA280_.jpg

I've found this to be the best "Lay There And Fall Asleep Chair" in the world.

Next, you need a beach umbrella. I have 2.
Gotta have the ones that screw into the sand. No mallets.
Who wants to bang something on the beach?
Get your mind out of the gutter!

Next, you MUST HAVE a soft zippered cooler with side thingees for your sunglasses, and sunscreen.

Cool beverages are a must and good thermal drinking vessel is imperative.

here's what I use: The 52 oz foam insulated Bubba Keg Mug.
http://www.amazon.com/Bubba-Keg-04281-52oz-Blue/dp/B000JO90YO/ref=pd_bxgy_k_img_b

Now the Black and Blue 52oz Bubbas also include an extremely handy bottle opener built-in to the handle of your Bubba!
What will they think of next???
A bottle opener built into a mug! It makes you proud to be an American, I tell ya!

Music is extremely important at the beach!
You gotta block out those screaming brats.
You gotta have your iPod. I have many beach playlists on my iPod.

AND ONE OF THESE:

THIS IS THE GREATEST SMALL PORTABLE SPEAKER SYSTEM FOR THE BEACH, PERIOD.

I've tried out many small speakers at the beach, but this one has balls, and the batteries last all day.

The JBL "On Tour" lightweight, high performance portable sound system.

http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B000BQ57BU/km-20/ref=nosim

So you got yer cocktails, your music, your sunglasses, maybe a good book, some snacks.
You get your head in an enhanced version of reality, and this elongates time and makes the snacks taste better and the music sound nicer, and really, what the hell else could you want?

THAT'S how you go to the beach.

That's all you need, (besides a ukulele)
I prefer a Fluke Ukulele to all others.

http://www.fleamarketmusic.com/store/Scripts/prodList.asp?idCategory=5


And one more thing. (speaking of music)
Don't be so cheap!
You can spend 99 cents to download this song. You need some new beach music, don't you?

http://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B0029BYCKC/ref=dm_dp_trk4?ie=UTF8&qid=1242591531&sr=102-2

Then you can take me to the beach with ya.

And sometimes I do bring a baseball bat along to keep Greenpeace from rolling me back into the ocean.

Songs That Get Stuck In Your Head

Did you ever get a song stuck in your head?

A song that you hate?

A song that would make you risk breaking your finger when you poke it at the radio to change the station?

It happened to me the one night, in the worst way.

I was in a hotel room in Houston Texas.

It was ten something when I went to bed with a full tank of Guinness.

I had to be up at 3 am to get picked up by the shuttle so I could fly home.

I was so worried that I'd over-sleep, that I couldn't really sleep at all.

The clock on the bedstand had these big red digital numbers.

I would sleep for 15 minutes, look at the clock, sleep for a few more minutes, then look at the clock again.

Somewhere in there... the song, "MY EYES ADORED YOU," by Frankie Vallie, popped into my booze riddled, sleep-deprived head.

12:47

"MY EYES ADORED YOU... THOUGH I NEVER LAID A HAND ON YOU..."

1:10

"LIKE A MILLION MILES AWAY FROM ME, YOU COULDN'T SEE HOW I ADORED YOU."

JESUS! I HATE THAT FRIGGIN SONG!!!!"

1:28 "LIKE A MILLION MILES AWAY FROM ME..."

ARGHHH!!!!!!!!!!!

I got up and took a leak.

While returning my rented beer, or "un-drinking," as I call it, I realize that I'm humming... "CARRIED YOUR BOOKS FROM SCHOOL..."
(how do I know all the words to a song I can't stand?)

I get back to bed, sleep for a little while, and I'm friggin' DREAMING THE FUGGING SONG!

YOU WERE 16, I WAS SIX..." or whatever the fuggin words are....

I HATE that song!

But it wouldn't leave me alone!

Somewhere around 2 AM I began praying to God, "DEAR GOD! PLEASE! MAKE IT STOP!!!"

I fell back to sleep, and woke up at 2:18.

Clear as a bell in my head, I could hear Frankie Vallie go into "SWEARING TO GOD."

I felt like killing somebody. I never did get back to sleep.

I got into the shuttle and the driver had the radio on. He was listening some oldies station, and I made him turn it off.

I truly belive that if a Frankie Vallie song came on, I might have killed him.