Skunked

Skunked


One summer Saturday morning, we woke up to the smell of skunk in the neighbourhood, a not uncommon occurrence. We live in an apartment in the downtown core of Vancouver BC, just next to Stanley Park, a 1000 acre urban park.  Many types of small animals, including skunks, call the park home.

As with all Saturdays we get up and prepare to head out for breakfast.  When we get outside, it was obvious the skunk had been close.  The building next door was roped off and there were firemen, police and a large crowd of residents standing outside.  One of the neighbours told us  a skunk had gotten in the building. It was so bad in there you could hardly breath. 

My husband’s best friend, Will, lives in that building.  He is a great guy and we love him to bits.  Will is the kind of guy that if you saw him walking down the street you would really wonder about him.  He is tall and thin and has a long pony tail that almost reaches the center of his back.  His hair is actually much to thin for this style but he hasn’t cut it in years and has no plans to any day soon.  He often has a moustache to match the hair, long and thin.  He never seems to be well put together, shirt half tucked, shoes never tied. 

We could not see Will outside and thought we should call and let him know not to come home too quickly. When he answered it was obvious we had woken him up.

“Will, buddy,” my husband says, “Where are you?” 

“Home why?  And why are you calling so early?  I was out till three or four am.”

We all used to party together in our twenties and Will could always out party any of us. Anyone who spent time with Will learned quickly that he was extremely intelligent, overly generous and the kindest hearted guy you would ever meet but he was also the best partier.  In our thirties we, and most of our friends, slowed on the partying and focused more on family life and careers but Will was not ready to give it up quite yet.

“How does it smell in your place?” my husband asked.

“Cat needs a bath but why do you care?”

“Will, are you okay?”

“Allergies are bad and probably still drunk but I am fine. Why?”

“I think you better get up and come over to our place. They have evacuated your building,” my husband is a little concerned for him

“Yeah, sure. Let me find the cats and I will be right over!”

When my husband tells me what Will had said I immediately asked if he had really said cats? 

Will only has one cat.
 
We worked our way closer to the front of the building to help Will.  In a moment or two we see the elevator open.  There’s Will; hair everywhere, no shirt, shoes in hand. He has his cat under one arm and a skunk in the cat carrier.

“Hey man, check out my cool new cat!”

Will doesn’t live in that building any more.

532 words