an Open letter to the Skunk who sprayed my dog

You know what?  I was gonna kill you.  Then, I remember I can’t kill you.  You were defending yourself when you sprayed.  Fair point.  However, I will make your life worse, and make you wish you were dead.  Stand warned, these are my plans if he sprays again in front of the house.

if he sprays again, I will kill him.  I will kill him 12 times past dead.  I will tear his head off and post it on a pike in my yard so that ALL skunks know to fear me.  No, wait.  I have a better plan.

I will find his little skunk mommy, and kill her right in front of his skunk dad (skunk’s have a very low divorce rate, so for the narrative we will assume they are still together).  Then, I fill find his little skunk wife and allow the prairie dogs to have their way with her.  Yes, prairie dogs are well known rapists.  accept it!

I will then find his kids and kill them in front of the mother.

and if he sprays again – I will call his cable company, pretending to be him, and have all channels deactivated except the jesus ones.  I will also explain that I need a program lock on any programming that isn’t ‘G’ rated.

Even worse, I will ask them to sweep and erase the DVR weekly without warning.

Then, I will go online as him and post racist anti skunk rants… so that he is ostracized in his own community

Then, I will go in and register him as a Democrat.  In Douglas County, that is its own death wish

Then, I will make clay figurines of his family (whom I have likely killed) and wire them with a small electrical charge.  Just enough to sting a little.  So, when he goes to embrace them… they will zapp him and he will likely feel trust and abandonment issues going forward.

Then, I will get him all hooked on Lost, back when it was awesome.   I will make him finish the whole long and pointless ending.

I will get him a Guns and Roses disc for Christmas, but it will be ‘Chinese Democracy’.

I will get him a boxed set of every Lorne Michaels produced comedy based on an SNL skit, and remove Blues Brothers.

I will buy him an NFL jersey, and it will be a Vick jersey.  He won’t get the irony because he can’t read (he’s a skunk, see)… but there will be twitters and guffaws in the neighborhood.

then, I will order gay skunk monthly magazine in his name but to the neighbors addresses…  so that everyone keeps winking in a knowing way at him but he never understands why.

then, I will make him a pot of coffee as a peace offering, but it will be decaffeinated.

this I will do if he spray again.

then, I will tell him he has a decent sense of humor, but will be insincere about it… which he will be able to pick up on… and forever have a tough time accepting compliments because of trust issues.

then, we will watch the Truman show together so that he understands that EVERYTHING is meaningless.

and he will say he is a big Ed Harris fan, but I will have to tell him that Harris seems like a d**k in person.

I will make him listen to that Bad Brains album where HR decides to take up trumpet (God of Love).

I may not even mean it, either.  I haven’t decided which is more cruel

I will have a cocktail party and invite him over 30 minutes after everyone.  and he will come to the door.  I will, quite loudly, say “get out of here you stupid skunk!” and totally not let him in.

then, your friends will know that I am king alpha mail who doesn’t take any sh*t from a stupid skunk.

then, I will leave thin filament rope for him.  Maybe floss.  At this point, he will want to hang himself, but the filament will fail and I will remind him he isn’t good at ANYTHING, because he is just a stupid skunk.

I would take the skunk out to the country and put a Marilyn Manson shirt on him so he got beat up by hick skunks.

I would give the skunk little side burns and call him Elvis

then pump him full of narcotics until he died crapping himself.

I would call his alarm company and cancel service.  Then, I will tell the skunk that I actually upgraded his service, so that he is the safest skunk in history… even though he wouldn’t be because after a month or two the alarm company would stop monitoring his den.

get the idea?  Don’t fuck with my dog.  again.


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