Looking back over my life, I think of the memorable moments. Here is just one.

I was walking home one night, in town, and was sprayed by a skunk. I was 15, and it was 2 am.  I heard a rustling noise next to the sidewalk, and I yelled at the little dog I thought was going to bite me. Then something odd happened. It ran across my feet and I heard  "phisht phisht"  and I was sprayed in the face and body, point blank. Then I realized that may not have been a dog. I screamed bloody murder, even chased it.  Eyes were burning. Nose was burning. Mouth was burning.

I walked another 15 blocks to a store my friend worked at. I opened the door and the wind came up behind me....and everyone in that gas station was yelling at me to get out and close the door.  A police officer asked me (from a distance) what I was doing out waaay past curfew.  The officer  couldn't decide whether  to laugh or vomit, so he had my friend call my mother to come get me.  

During all of this, I couldn't smell it.  I didn't understand...it had done something to my sense of smell. I guess that's what happens when you are hit in the face with it.   Overall, there must be worse things to be hit in the face with.  Everyone has there preferences and a moment in time when they decide where their line is.  For me, skunk is still preferable to some other options.

My mother arrived, and started yelling at me from the car and then it hit her.  Vomit was the option she took. She then rolled all the windows down and made me sit in the back. "oh my God, damn, oh my God" she chanted all the way home.

I think she wanted me in the trunk but the officer was looking from a safe distance.   Glad mom went to church, cause I think at that point in time, the officer would've looked the other way. If he found a pontiac in the country with two holes in the trunk ,buried in a landfill, he would've testified on her behalf with sympathy for the condition.

They all had that dead to me look, like I did something to them they wouldn't ever be able to wash off. It is a look I have seen several times in my life.

I was still pissed when I was told to take my clothes off in the garage, and wrap up in the old towels. She wanted me wrapped head to toe in dry towels to dampen the smell on my way downstairs. I guess to keep the smell from permeating through the house.  This did not work. The tomato juice was already in the shower in the basement.  Why was I being persecuted by everyone?  I scrubbed and scrubbed, but it was a month before that smell faded.  Mom went to work the next day, exhausted. At least she said she went to work. She may have just got the hell out of the house that she tried so hard to keep clean.

I knew when we got that new house with the white carpet that it was trouble.

Now the house smelled of skunk, and I don't know how long it was like that.  Kids picked on me forever, but they always picked on me. No big deal. Kids can be cruel. It is a good thing I grew up being a forgiving person.

Bastards.

I, to this day, do not find the smell of skunk offensive at all.  I  can tell you how many there are and what county they are in based on the strength and direction of the wind.

Kids!  Be home by curfew. Things CAN happen.

or maybe it's just me?

Have a good morning and Thank you for your time.

Mark Burkenbine