It is subtle, but then my nose hairs start to burn as the smell travels down my throat. I sit up, jump out of bed, quickly turn off the fan, and expect the little bastard to pass by my house and travel down the street, but unfortunately I hear his squeaky, annoying voice.
“It is me, the famous neighborhood skunk in search of food!” he shouts.
I don’t respond to him as I get back under the covers, trying to tolerate the smell, but it is too late. I now taste the dreadful stench in my mouth as it lingers around my tongue. I cough, trying not to swallow.
“I know I woke you with my pleasantry,” he says.
Frustrated by his mockery, I jump out of bed and push open the curtains. “Curse you, damn Skunk. Curse you!” I yell through the window.
“Oh, don’t be outraged, Neighbor. God made me this way.”
Pushing against the cold window, I desperately look for the dreadful Skunk, but it is too dark outside.
“What? You can’t see me? I know I’m black, but it is hilarious that you can’t see my beautiful white stripe. Surely you are not as blind as me,” Skunk adds.
“Fuck you, Skunk! Every other night you do this to me, disturbing my sleep, stinking up the place,” I shout.
I close the curtains and fall back on my bed, covering my face with my pillow, but the smell becomes stronger and stronger. “Damn Skunk!” I roll off the bed, run out of the room, and down the stairs into the den. I sit on the couch and shove my face into the cushion.
“Neighbor! Neighbor!” Skunk shouts.
I lift my head out of the cushion and reply, “Go away, you nasty animal.”
“But I can’t find any food.”
“Then you are out of luck and must starve.”
I shove my head back into the cushion, taking short breaths, trying to think of something else when I hear my front gate creak open.
“Neighbor, if you help me, I’ll never return to this neighborhood.”
I lift my head out of the cushion.
“Please, give me your pork chops and I’ll never return,” Skunk says.
“What? How do you know I have leftover pork chops?”
“I can smell them. Remember, I am a skunk, and I can smell better than you.”
“But that is all I have to eat. If I give you my leftover chops, I will definitely starve.”
“Would you rather starve or continue to wake to my fabulous scent?”
I cover my nose with my hand, thinking about his question.
“Don’t think too long, Neighbor,” he insists.
“Shut up, Skunk! Your stench is hideous and unbearable, but I must eat.”
“You will not starve. Surely, a man like you will have future luck in obtaining more chops and rid yourself of my scent forever.”
“Yes, I guess you are right,” I reply.
I hear Skunk approach my house.
“Then open your front door and give me the leftover chops,” he insists.
I get off the couch and walk to the door. “Do you promise to leave once I give you the chops, never to return for the rest of your life?”
“Yes, I promise to never return.”
“And you won’t spray when I open the door?”
“Yes, I promise not to spray.”
I grab a mallet leaning against the wall and cautiously reach for the door. I open it, and Skunk is about five-feet tall with a small triangular head and little ears, gawking angrily into my eyes. He then moves slightly to the left, displaying his white stripe running from his head up to his black furry tail. Frightened, I take a step back as Skunk reveals his webbed toes and sharp claws.
“At last, you see me!” he exclaims.
“My God, I didn’t expect your size and monstrous look.”
“Me either. I did not expect to see a short, bald—middle aged man, half naked—and skinny. You’re hideous for a human.”
I hide the mallet behind my back.
“There is no need to hide that,” he demands.
“But now I know I made a mistake opening the door.” I lift the mallet over my head in an attempt to scare Skunk away.
“You’re no threat to me, little man.”
The Skunk steps forward, stomping his feet as I move back.
“Now that I’m finally in your house, I will eat all your chops.”
“Get away.” I swing the mallet, but slip and fall to the floor.
He arches his back, raising his puffy tail.
“Leave now!” I shout.
The Skunk turns around as though to leave.
“Go, you filthy animal.” I point to the door, but unexpectedly a liquid from his behind suddenly splashes against my face, dripping into my mouth and eyes.
“Mother fucker!” I shout, to the stinging sensation of the smelly fluid.
“How do you like that?” Skunk asks.
I gag, half blinded, trying to stand up when Skunk reaches my kitchen counter and grabs my chops.
“You lied to me,” I murmur.
“Never trust a wicked skunk.” He hops over me and rushes toward the front door. “Goodbye, Little Man. I will see you again.”
I stand up, but then fall back to the floor, struggling to breathe. “Curse you, Skunk,” I murmur in desperation.
He lifts his black furry tail, shoves a chop in his mouth, and leaves my house.
End