It all started years ago when I lived on my own for the very first time in my very first apartment. I had, of course, lived in the dorms of college for a year but people are always present and you’re hardly independent, what with a cafeteria, resident advisors, and other authority figures scattered all over the place.
My apartment was on the ground floor behind a school and my little patio let right out onto the soccer field. My best friend Jacquee came over to spend several weeks with me after a painful breakup and we’d often spend the evenings out on the patio, cigarettes and journals in hand.
One night we were out there when I noticed a small creature come wadding in our direction. I thought it was a cat and so I made appropriate come hither kitty noises. Until I realized it was no cat at all. It was a skunk.
I remained relatively calm (or frozen, I prefer calm) but Jacquee, well, Jacquee freaked out a little bit. She flew inside the apartment, circled several times (lit cigarette still in hand) and then eventually wound up in the bathroom where she threw the cigarette into the toilet before getting her wits together.
I tease her about it all the time. It’s to the point where you all have to say is, “Damn skunks,” and we both start laughing.
Well, Jacquee was up to visit me this past weekend. We were sitting outside of Marianne’s house about 3am, waiting for Marianne to come home when what should waddle by? Yup. Another blasted skunk.
Fortunately this time Jacquee had the presence of mind to remain calm. I guess I can’t tease her anymore.
Now that I’ve typed this all out, I don’t think this will be nearly that funny to anyone other than us. Oh well. I laugh.