I hate seeing roadkill.

 

It isn't the gore that bothers me - it's the fact that some jerk couldn't have been driving a little bit slower, and avoided the violent spattering of some innocent forest animal. Seeing roadkill makes me mad.

Which is why I told myself, when I became a member of the driving community, I was going to be an "animal friendly driver."

Yessiree, when the beasts of the wilderness heard the sound of my car approaching, they would know that it was safe to venture out into the street. They would know it was perfectly all right for their furry little children to play games about the asphalt. Indeed, they would be able to peacefully co-exist with my car and I, and perhaps even welcome and appreciate it advancing slowly and carefully down the street.

Which brings me to 6 years later.

It was dark, and I was driving merrily along, singing along with CrackerBash at the top of my lungs, alive with the knowing that an animal would never die at the wheels of my car. Suddenly, far ahead I noticed a skunk successfully crossing the street. "What a lucky skunk," I thought to myself, as a car in the oncoming traffic lane just narrowly missed it.

"THUD THUD."

Now please don't get me wrong - I didn't kill that skunk. It is much worse than that. There was another skunk, assumably the wife or husband of the lucky one. The first one distracted me, and as I was admiring it's skunk-like beauty, I thoroughly squashed it's mate.

I drove on in silence for quite some time, fully absorbing what had just occurred. I was no longer the animal friendly driver. Rumors would spread. The chipmunks would stop playing around my house. Raccoons would stop eating out of my garbage. Even my own dog would begin to eye me suspiciously.

I wept.

That went on for a little while, and then I noticed the smell. This now brings me to the topic of Karma. My car smells. Wait - not just smells - reeks. Yes, it reeks of skunk. I thought, "THIS IS EXTREMELY BAD."

And it was. It was like the skunk had made it's way into my backseat, and was manufacturing skunk stink all for me. 30 degrees outside, and I had all windows rolled down. I drove like that for the rest of the way home, freezing my ass off. I made it inside and went to sleep.

I had a disturbing dream that night. I was driving. The sky outside was a beautiful shade of light blue. The clouds were light and wispy. It was a smooth backcountry road, and fields of yellow flowers were growing for as far as I could see. But there was this awful smell that carried with it the intensity of the sun. This wasn't the smell of skunk, which by itself isn't really that bad. It was the smell of evil. I looked down, and with horror understood that the skunk was my passenger. For eternity. The skunk smiled.

I woke up sweating.

The next morning, I had almost forgotten about the hell of the previous night. I got in my car, and BAAAM. The smell was still there. It hadn't faded. I sucked in a load of fresh outside air, and got in.

On the abnormally fast drive to work, realization slowly dawned upon me. This was karma. Not the kind of big karma where you are screwed in the next life, but little karma, where you are screwed instantly. I could feel the scent permeating into my clothes. This essence of skunk was pissed off at me. I would probably have to sell my car to get rid of the smell. But no one would buy it. Ever.

I was cursed.

I decided to visit the site of the skunks death, to tell it how sorry I was and to beg for forgiveness. I bought an air freshener that morning, but it didn't help. It just intermixed with the odor, making it smell like my car was just steam cleaned with musk perfume. Unacceptable.

As I arrived, my eyes scanned the road for the corpse. There was none. No body. No smooshed pulpy mess. Not even a little wet spot in the road. This meant one of three things.

1) The lucky skunk wondered what the hell had happened to it's mate, and when it went back and saw that she was dead, he picked up her lifeless body and gave her a proper skunk burial.

2) I merely ran over a rock, or something, and the skunk I thought I hit had incredible scent gland reflexes and a nasty sense of humor.

3) I didn't kill the skunk, but merely maimed it. It hobbled off, and is currently healing. It got my license plate number, and as soon as it is better, will hunt me down and hurt me.

 

I am scared.