It was a dark and stormy night, and SuperDave and I retired early after a long and exhausting day. Suddenly, a shot rang out.
Actually, I didn’t hear the shot. Other sensory organs were impacted, though.
The odour spread through the house like a black miasma. I sat upright, knowing the dire truth: he was here. I gathered myself and went out to warn the children. If we were lucky, perhaps this time we would win. Perhaps he would not escape to terrorize us again.
The children were in the process of quietly closing the French doors to the living room, and writing us a note. It seems the kids had already jacklighted the odoriferous intruder.
That’s right. Pepe had perished at the hands of the Hicksville Children.
The 14-year-old had stepped outside to feed the cats, only to find a black-and-white interloper underfoot, polishing off the leavings in the food dish. Fortunately, the skunk did not react to her presence.
She ducked back inside, and the gambit was quickly arranged. She shone a light out the mudroom window onto the step, while her older brother took up a sniper post at the kitchen window.
Whaddaya know? It only took one bullet.
The kids then closed the door to our end of the house and wrote a note for their father’s early morning departure: WARNING: SKUNK ON PORCH.
Just in case we didn’t notice.
I slept with my head under two quilts for most of the night. When that got too suffocating, I stuck my face in my husband’s armpit for relief.
Today, Dave’s been having a great day, offering me the use of his armpit for an air filter.
And that’s the Hicksville news for this week.