June 8th, 2006
|12:45 am - Renegades of Skunk|
My uncle opened the garage door upon pulling into the driveway, and the door had already risen past the necessary threshold before he noticed the small black-and-white ball of fur sitting in wait right in front of it. As we watched in horror, the skunk dashed inside and hid underneath the Mercedes.
We approached with caution, not wanting to scare it into resorting to biological warfare. It was hiding next to the front right tire. My uncle stamped on the floor and yelled, and I barked at it, hoping this particular skunk had the brain of a turnip. It was a small bugger, not even a foot long, and it quickly slipped away toward the entrance to the house. It knew where shelter was.
I rang the doorbell in the front and warned everyone not to open the door to the garage. I grabbed the keys to the Mercedes and tossed them to my uncle, who got the vehicle out of the garage, out of danger. The skunk persisted in its attempt to gain access to the house, perched on the step to the door.
I was given a long stake and told to play Animal Control. My first move was to close the garage door, leaving only enough room for our visitor to scurry away, enough room so that the door could close before it regrouped and planned another attack.
My second move was to poke the skunk with the blunt end of the stake and yell profanities at it. This went on for several minutes, during which we built up a rapport. At this point in the story, I believe he deserves a name, and that name shall be Jacques Preppernau, cousin to Pepe Le Pew.
Now, I had to be careful with Jacques, as I didn't want him to stink up the place. Although, deep down in the masochistic recesses of my lack of human experience, I was curious to discover what the famed odor smelled like. I banged the wood on the step, signaling to him that he was unwelcome. He did not seem to care.
I tried nudging him off the step, but my timidity combined with his clawed grip made that particular gambit ineffectual.
Then, seeing some small boxes lying around, I seized upon a brilliant plan. I slid the stake through the two holes for handgrips, and, with the open end on the bottom, I now had a makeshift capture device. I maneuvered the box above Jacques and tried to ensnare him. The device was clearly imperfect because of the box flaps hanging out and keeping the box from properly making contact with the ground, but I did manage to get Jacques off the step. He was not trapped in the box, however, and before I could say, "Get in the box!" more than twice, he had already scrambled onto the step again. Now he was clawing the corner, a tactically advantageous place to be when your adversary is coming at you with a cumbersome box.
The box was not staying on the stake anyway, so I returned to my initial poking. He had become more and more feisty and elusive, however. And suddenly I heard groans and moans from inside, seconds before I caught whiff of the stench myself.
Here, here was the infamous Eau de Skunk! I was disappointed, to be honest. It was rather dull, reminiscent of rotten eggs but not particularly memorable otherwise. I didn't even find it that nauseous. The infamy, I believe, is derived from the fact that the scent is lingering, like melted lead or boiling oil.
It took a couple minutes of the same-old, same-old before it occurred to me that Jacques Preppernau had shown his hand and was now defenseless. The game was up, Jacques. There were no more bullets left in that gun. Did I think Jacques was gonna fall for that old trick? It wasn't a trick: one plus ew plus ew plus none.
Taking the blunt end of the stake (I threatened him with Mr. Pointy, but he called my bluff), I pushed him off the step, and once I got him on the floor, I pushed him along like a hockey puck. The poor guy didn't even try to run, not even when I accidentally turned him on his side. He was resigned to his fate.
I shoved Jacques outside and hit the garage door opener. My brilliant plan failed in execution, as the door...began to open, since its last trajectory had been a closing one. I frantically stopped it and hit the button again in order to close the door before the skunk made another play, but Mr. Preppernau had ceded the win to me today.
He had achieved a small victory, however, in leaving his mark upon the garage, most of the downstairs area, and me. Pine-Sol could only mask the scent for so long. Was ours a Pyrrhic victory after all?
As they say in Bel Air: smell ya later.
Current Mood: melancholy
Current Music: Eisley - Trolleywood
But, in the area of asking for stuff from the man who would know, would you happen to know where a man would stumble upon the Veronica Mars BGM, Josh Kramon's stuff, since his site doesn't seem to be hosting the files anymore.
I figured you'd be the man to ask, since your detectiving skills are second to none.
He still has samples
up. If you're looking for more, go bug zimshan
. I think she has everything he used to have up there.
Awwww. Poor scared little skunk.
..Er. And poor you guys? :P
(I've never been horribly bothered by the smell either. Huh.)
I got the Jin thumbs up! Awesome!
Wait, does that mean Michael is going to shoot the skunk?
Well, they just might have an appointment with Mr. Pointy.
Skunks thrive here in LA and I catch the stench at least once a week. It's bad, but not horrid.
Sunil vs. skunk. I would've loved to have seen that:)
That's quite the amusing story. I giggled. It also reminded me that I had a bizarre dream about a week ago in which my mom and I got skunked and proceeded to bathe in tomato juices. There were also random Joaquin Pheonix sightings. What those two things have to do with each other, I haven't a clue.
But seriously, you'd never smelled a skunk before? I had no idea there were people who hadn't. Huh. Learn something new every day.
|Date:||June 8th, 2006 10:49 am (UTC)|| |
here in tennessee we've been having a rash of rabid skunks. so be glad you didn't encounter one of them. i can't stand the smell of skunk for the very reason you described. it just lingers forever.
thank you for starting my day with a chuckle. (tho I admit sucking in an OMG deep breath at the mention of the 'long stake')
for future refrence:
say some chicken scraps... leading in a trail to and out the door.
go away, watch safely from a window.
close door when furry black and white varmit has exited the building.
|Date:||June 8th, 2006 12:49 pm (UTC)|| |
I was going to say this, too. Poking at a skunk with a stick = not the best idea.
My dog gets sprayed all the time (he doesn't mind the smell, either). This
works better than tomato juice at getting the smell out.
Nicely played, sir. Skunks are deeply stupid creatures, which actually makes them more formidable in some cases.
How have you lived this long in a variety of places and not smelled skunk before? That's what truly impresses me.
I've hardly ever SEEN a skunk before, let alone smelled one.
That's funny. Poor you. I also feel a bit sorry for the skunk, seeing as you named him after the beloved son of Coach Preppernau. If Jacques the skunk comes back with a special lady friend, I hope you name her Shelley.
My God, Sunil, you're so butch. It just takes my breath away. Is it hot in here?
It's good to know I can protect my woman from furry little stinkbombs.
There were no more bullets left in that gun. Did I think Jacques was gonna fall for that old trick? It wasn't a trick: one plus ew plus ew plus none.
HAHAHAHAAAA! The moment I read "There were no more bullets left in that gun," into my mind popped "1+2+1+1." And then there it was. Because you are teh rockingest.
I knew you would love that.
I'm actually pretty proud of that "one plus ew plus ew plus none" bit. I am so fucking clever.
You'd never smelled a skunk before?? Wow. Weird.
Anyway, go get someone to get you tomato juice, like the big #10
cans from costco or Sam's, and take a bath in it. It's what gets the smell out. Showers alone won't do it.
I haven't either. They're not real common in Orlando, where I grew up.
Along with several others, I'm in awe of someone who hasn't smelled skunk before. Of course, I'm one of the fortunate ones that has only been privy to it when one decides to die on the side of the road. The mental image of you poking (and cursing) at it, though, had me in stiches. The skunk was probably thinking "How can I get out that door and back home without this monster stabbing me in the back as I run?" :D
I'm with you about the smell of skunk not being too too bad, but I think the point of it is that you don't want it to linger, particularly not in your face which is where most predators would get the spray.
In case you are still having smell issues, this might help: http://lavplourde.tripod.com/skunk/
I think my olfactory system may be deficient in some way. It is my least favorite sense. And not very powerful.
And holy Christ, I had no idea it was THAT unusual for someone not to have smelled skunk before. Like, that's everyone's comment. Maybe I've smelled it and not known it, but this was the first time I'd smelled the live spray.