A Little Bit of Mischief

I was recently telling this story to someone and they found it so amusing that I decided even thought it happened over a year ago, I would post it here for your entertainment also.

Early last spring, I was going out to the chicken house mid-day to replace their frozen waterer with fresh, warm water.  It was pretty cold still, and there were snowbanks around the chicken house.  Going in the 'people' door of the coop, out of the corner of my eye I spotted a small black-and-white figure about 8 feet away on the other side of the snowbank.  Luckily, it didn't see me, because I probably wouldn't have smelled very good much longer if it had.

Now, I'd been having trouble recently with critters killing my chickens.  So, I hustled off to the house and retrieved the trusty .22 that is kept ready for critter dispatching.  Returning to the chicken area, I carefully neared the coop, trying to see over the snowbank on the backside of it to see if there was still a striped walking stink bomb in the vicinity. 

There was.  Stepping up into the doorway of the coop for more height and a better angle, I drew a bead on my enemy of the moment.  A squeeze of the trigger and he didn't know what had hit him.  He quickly left this world.

Feeling pretty proud of my marksmanship, glad to have dispatched a potential chicken-killer, and totally amazed that I still smelled good--he hadn't even sprayed when shot--I walked over to examine my vanquished foe.  He still looked to be in perfect shape, even if no longer among the living.  I decided then that with his help, I could have a little fun.

You see, to get into the house from where we park, you have to walk around the backside of the garage (because the garage is full of lumber and various other useful things we don't have room to park the car or truck inside of it).  From there, you can enter the garage and via the garage, the mudroom of the house.  Now, next to the door to get into the garage there, a mound of snow had accumulated from shoveling the sidewalk.

My mischievous mind realized that a dead skunk and a snowbank near the garage door equaled the potential to pull a prank on my husband.  So I propped up Mr. Skunk near the door, on the edge of the snowbank to make it look like he was on his feet exploring the back of the garage.  And I waited for my hubby to come home from work.

Several hours passed, and then a phone call from my DH.
DH:  "I'm home, but I can't come in."
Me:  "Why not?"
DH: "Look out the window."

Going to the window in the dining room that looks out toward the back of the garage, I see my DH, cell phone in hand, with a nervous look on his face, peering around the far corner of the garage.  His body is out of view, just his head and hand in range of my new little buddy.

Me: "Why can't you come in?"
DH:  "Don't you see the skunk?!?"
Me (trying very hard not to laugh): "Oh, he won't hurt you."
DH:  "How do you know?"
Me, totally laughing now: "Because I shot him!"

I wanted to find a taxidermist to properly preserve Mr. Skunk for years of fun (can you imagine taking my little buddy camping with unsuspecting relatives!), but DH vetoed me on that.