There is a world between heaven and hell that few have seen. And even fewer speak of. A place that houses such horrors that no man dares to enter the realm. A place so despicable . . . well, you get the idea.
Sounds pretty bad, uh? All ominous and creepy and such, right? Well, it should. It’s the crawl space under my house.
First of all, if you’re writing a blog post about catching skunks or possums or other such critters under your house, there’s a good chance live in the south.
Second, if you DO have a skunk under your house, you probably don’t want their neighbors and friends to know. But in my case it doesn’t matter – you can smell it for miles. We did catch the skunk just a few days ago, but even as he was rattling the bars on his cage, I could hear other, more determined animals scurrying around, almost like they had a master plan they were carrying out.
But my question is this: What is drawing them to my house?
In my never-ending quest for knowledge, I thought I’d try to find out. I put my ear to the floor. I wasn’t certain, but I thought I could faintly make out the chipmunk version of Kool and the Gang’s hit “Celebration.”
So then I grabbed a flashlight, determined to find the varmints that was making all that ruckus. But when I stuck my head under the house, there wasn’t one animal to be seen, not one pair of gleaming eyes looking back at me. I did find a few sales brochures and religious tracts, but I think I ran all of the humans out from under the house well over a year ago.
I needed a plan.
Think!, I told myself. Then it hit me, the only way I could ever find out what was truly happening under the house was if I was to pretend to be one of them. I was reminded of that old Saturday Night Live skit where Eddie Murphy pretends to be white so he can find out how white people act when they’re alone. http://www.snotr.com/video/422/Eddie_Murphy_goes_undercover
But I found it impossible to find a possum or raccoon disguise in my size. So I had to settle for one of those ape costumes. My only hope? That they would think I was either Big Foot or the Boggy Creek Monster.
So with my disguise on, I ventured under the house one night, and it was not a pretty sight. The music was blasting, the strobe light was strobbing. It was an all-out critter party, and I had not been invited.
At first, my plan was working perfectly. None of the animals suspected a thing. In fact, I had a skunk hit on me. And she was kind of cute, too, but I kept my mind on the job at hand. I would not be distracted!
I helped myself to a few of the appetizers . . . at least I did until I realized it was nothing more than garbage I had thrown out more than a week ago.
But then my plan fell apart when a squirrel asked me a question. I have no idea what he asked me, but by the look in his beady eyes, I’m pretty sure he wanted to know just exactly where I was from. Unfortunately, I don’t speak squirrel, or any other animal language, so when I tried to answer him, my cover was pretty much blown.
And like that – Poof! The lights out! The music stopped! I quickly yanked off my ape head, took my flashlight out, and shown it around, but there was nothing to be seen.
I looked everywhere, until finally I found . . . the lone remaining salesman who had returned to the party. I helped him out of the crawl space and out to his car. And in return, he sold me a vacuum cleaner.
Oh well, I figured I could clean up before the next party. It seemed the least I could do.