Skunked

Skunked

My father went to school at Scott’s Chapel in Liberty, KY. Scott’s Chapel was a one room school that used to be a church. All of the local kids went to the same school, regardless of their age. Think Little House On the Prairie. The school used to be a church called Scott’s Chapel. I haven’t been by in several years, but the last time I was there, it was still standing.

I guess you could say my father was a precocious child, though his teachers may have used harsher language. He was a jokester whenever opportunity afforded itself. One Friday evening he espied a skunk crawl into a stovepipe lying on the ground. The end of the pipe had a vent that was closed, and the skunk was probably using it for a den.

Acting quickly, he found a thick gunny sack, put it over the end of the pipe and trapped the skunk. He stood the pipe on end and the skunk slid into the heavy sack, which he quickly tied shut. He now had the skunk in a bag, but what was he to do with it?

His family only lived a couple of miles from Scott’s Chapel, so he set off for the school, skunk in tow. When he arrived at the school, he found an unlocked window. He closed the widow most of the way and stuck the bag through the opening. He shook the skunk out and quickly slammed the window shut.

Monday when the first people arrived at school, they received a noisome greeting from a very angry skunk. The nearest neighbor was my father’s uncle, whom the teacher asked for help. When he tried to get the skunk out, it ran behind a bookcase. He took a long stick and kept trying to prod it out. He would prod for a while, then go out and puke for a while, prod, then puke. This continued for a couple of hours, until finally, he had to kill it, to remove it.

The building stunk so badly that they had to hold classes outside for a couple of weeks. Even though this could rightfully be called the “King of Pranks,” Dad could not own up to it. His uncle would have beaten him silly. The mystery of how the skunk entered the school eluded my father’s uncle, for the rest of his life. My great–uncle has been dead for about twenty years, but I hope his ghost doesn’t decide to haunt Dad after this post. After all, it would probably be angry enough to, if it learned the truth.