Herb & Rosebud

By
Graybeard Paine

Herb was a neighbor when we lived on the farm. He like practical jokes, the more elaborate the better.

One day Herb asphyxiated a family of skunks when he cut a piece of pipe with an acetylene torch. One poor little fellow about the size of a teacup survived.

Herb named the baby skunk “Rosebud” and had him examined by the vet. At the proper time he had Rosebud deodorized and trained him to do tricks. Rosebud could be made to lay still and quiet as if dying. On command he jumped up his tail in an impressive attack mode.

Herb often took Rosebud into a store, restaurant, or bar and asked people to help the poor little “kitty” he had just found run over in the street. Rosebud was a great practical joke until every one got wise to it, though the locals could get some laughs from an occasional stranger. After that, Rosebud was just Herb’s friend and beer drinking companion. Rosebud loved beer.

It came to pass that one day Herb had to do some business in town and left Rosebud locked up at home. Herb got home in late evening, opened the screen door on the porch, and said, “Rosebud, how did you get out here? He reached down to give the skunk a pat on the head.

Rosebud was not on the porch; he was still in the house.

There wasn’t enough tomato juice and vinegar in the entire state to do a truly adequate job. For weeks everyone avoided Herb, and on a warm day one could still detect a faint “eau de skunk” at Herb’s place. Sometimes, on a really hot day or when I pass certain roadkill, I think I can still smell Herb.