Back in the early seventies yours truly worked at a grocery store before the days of trash compactors. I did the usual sacking of groceries, stocking of isles and handling of a cash register. In addition to that yours truly took his turn in rotation going into a large trash bin behind the store and physically pushing the days trash to the rear. In other words a human trash compactor.
One night about half an hour before my shift was over I took my turn at human trash compactor. Suddenly a strong odor of skunk filled the air. Much too strong for comfort! Looking down between my shoes was the twitching nose of a skunk looking up at me in all its black and white glory! In fractions of a second(which cannot be measured)the fear of being bitten and subsequent rabies possibilities, the fear of being sprayed(not knowing I already had been) and the thought of what should I do all went through my mind.
In rapid foot fashion I made an attempt at kicking said skunk to Hades. However by the time said rapid foot fashion occurred, a not so heavenly skunk avoided Hades in rapider than rapid exit, escaping across a field. Can anyone say that last statement is wordy? Angst and adrenaline ridden I utilized fast arm fashion propelling a large rock at exiting varmint. I did. I also missed by miles.
Feeling dampness on my jeans and a smell that would clear sinuses faster than jalapeno peppers, I knew it had gotten me. Yours truly was sprayed by a skunk.
For some reason they let me go home early that night.
For some reason I went to a good friends house whose mother would not let people in her dining room because nothing and/or nobody was going to disturb her immaculate home.
For some reason I thought it would be funny to smell up her house.
For some reason I was in my good friend's room less than a minute before I was sent home.
For some reason three washings of the contaminated jeans in tomato paste actually removed the smell.
For some reason I prefer not to ever encounter a skunk again.
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