Skunk Drama

So there is currently a skunk plaguing my life. I live in a city (I think? Boston?) with some relatively tall buildings and bridges and terrible public transportation, so you would think the biggest animal pestering me should be the mice my landlord never told me about.

However, you would be wrong, because my problem is a legit skunk. He’s kind of like an overweight Pepe Le Pew, but with nowhere near the pizzazz or charisma of that little French sexpot. My skunk is all business. He’s bored, so he’s been stalking the stair pathway from the T up to my development on a nightly basis, since he knows people have to walk there. He seems to be having a mid-life crisis of some sort, leaving his home and kids after work to wander the city in search of adventure. Go home, Old Pepe, I want to say to him. You’re going to regret this later.

But what are you gonna do? I let the little man stink up the neighborhood and I freak out like a maniac whirring around every time I hear a branch snap while I'm walking home, in case he's waddling up behind me. And yes, this is my life. With the direction this is all heading, I have no doubt that I'll post a firsthand account in about a week or two of how absolutely terrible it is to have to take a bath in tomato juice.