A Live Skunk.

“You. Me. A Live Skunk. What are we going to do with it? Prank Ms. Donovan, of course! I can see it already. Uh Oh! There was a wee little misplacement we made, bagging her precious Hanukkah Wishlist. She takes it home after nine to five and crashes out on the romance novel piles on her couch. She blacks out, then she wakes up. She’s surrounded. By what you ask? Musk, a STINKY musk. A musk so thick and potent you could feel its stench ball up in your hands. You know what that means.

The stench drives in the fight or flight response. She wants to get rid of it but doesn’t know how. The stench is everywhere. On the school jersey, in her little emerald eyes. On her sensitive tongue. It’s gonna be so bad, she’ll want to sleep and never wake up. She shoves the door open, after heaving a good five minutes or so with husband and kid, then we pull up wearing all black and ski masks. We whip out some guns. Airsoft. Harmless, but they won’t know until the end. We’re going to ask them for their a million dollars, which they don’t have, and that activates phase two. We drag them up to their roof and bind them with flex tape and put out a fake ransom to dispose of their daughter if we don’t get the money. Of course, the cops come crawling to the scene, and that leads to the final stage.

 Gun vs gun. A REAL firefight from the rooftop. Freaking awesome!!

Next thing you know, I gag out an AK47 that I stashed into my stomach. The assault rifle has bullets that were the real deal. Next, I jump into the sky, make a cheerleader split, transform into a jet, my head becomes another AK47, my arms gatling machine guns. Then, I started blasting them fools, and the carnage was so elite that it turned Ms. Donovan and her family into stone. I win the battle, then I jump into deep space and orbit Earth. I do an orbit around the sun, wake up and do a bump. I realize there never was any cops, and the joint I started smoking was giving me hallucinations. I don’t care, and I green out.

Another premonition. I’m Jesus, floating upside down on planet Mars. I see aliens. Sexy aliens. I like what I’m seeing, and I’m Jesus, so I can do whatever I want. Alien Orgy, earthquake minutes after. Jesus committed a sin and now the world is falling apart. Uh Oh! I’ve smoked too much, I’m about to crash out. I crumble to the ground, doing the worm. “ARGHGRHGEEKAGURYAYAAWAAYA!!!”

“No!” Ms. Donovan slammed the story Martin cobbled together in twelve minutes in his face. “No no no. Martin, you’re gonna take this back and write it properly. I mean, what the hell is this? You were supposed to write prose based on an eavesdropped conversation, not poorly illustrated gibberish based on the dreams of the paralysis demons on your bedside whisper at night.

“I don’t have a paralysis demon,” Martin replied “And I did. I REALLY heard this.”

“Where?”

“The bathroom!” Martin pointed to the hallway, where he personally saw many of the kids in the class hog the pass to engage in whatever jaunts there were to discover in toilets or the poopy stalls. “When I was returning from the office, I heard Devon and Gabe messing around near the bathroom. I had a little difficulty, but I could hear some words they said. Something about a skunk, and about a prank. Your name came up, I swear on the ghost of my grandma’s carcass in my backyard.”

“That’s a dangerous vow, Martin,” Ms. Donovan had said this before. She was quick to warn anyone about the consequences of such promises.

“But it’s the truth! I’m a good student, you know. I go to class; I do my work. Don’t I have a perfect score for the GPA?” Ms. Donovan didn’t say no. “Look, I know that they’re gonna come by today for class. It’s the final day before the break for Hanukkah. I know they’re going to give you that duffle bag, and it’s gonna have a snunk in it. They mean to do very bad things to you!”

Ms. Donovan was too struck with incredulousness for her situation to respond. Being told by a student that you’re about to be sabotaged like how a movie killer waits in a car for their victims is straight out of the realm of fiction. “If you are wrong…you will pay for it,” she exhaustedly replied, just wanting to go home. “And by the way, I don’t have a child. Dealing with you kids is enough for me.”

School came and dissipated the way half the Marvel cast faded to dust at the end of Infinity War. Ms. Donovan decided to reserve whatever lectures on poetry syntax she had prepared for after her break, when she had the chance to trim down that Mount Everest of speculative fiction in her room. Also, she could sense that high schoolers these days were more into visual language they read on their media boxes. For the final period, she calmly read the last book of her favorite war trilogy, The Savior’s Sister, as Devon and Gabe approached her desk with a gold mystery bag. Exactly what Martin prophesied.

“We wanted to leave a gift to surprise you, Ms. Donovan,” Devon explained, using a monotone that Ms. Donovan didn’t like. “We spend a long time searching for this gift, trying to figure out what would freshen up your break. We hope you enjoy it.”

Devon concluded his generosity with an awkward smile. Devon never possessed a winning smile, possibly because he was always the kid whom appeared up to no good.

Ms. Donovan’s calm was hijacked by a chill of dread. She could see that whatever was wrapped beneath the paper was not light at all. It had girth to it. Could be one of those gaudy Yankee Candles that Ms. Donovan would be obligatorily gifted by coworkers. Her imagination was screaming that it was the terrible skunk that would BO bomb her abode and ruin her vacation if she even entertained the idea of accepting their “gift.”

An uncharacteristic shriek came from Ms. Donovan’s mouth. Martin, who hadn’t yet left the room was watching intently. He would be walking home today as a prophet. Hell, maybe with some extra credit for saving her from the trashing of a good magenta blouse and long skirt.

The boys and the rest of the class recoiled at her frightened expression. The students that had already exited the room heard her and burst back inside.

“There’s a skunk in that bag!” Ms. Donovan yelled. Without a verbal command, some of the boy students had already shoved Devon and Gabe to the floor, their hands and wrists forced behind their backs. 

“Where did you get that idea?!” Gabe yelled back.

“You guys mentioned the word “skunk” and “Ms. Donovan” in the same sentence,” Martin chimed in. “Don’t play innocent.”

“Look who’s talking, Satanist!” Devon cried. “Instead of promoting lies about us, how about you promote to the class the collection of body parts you have in your locker!”

“Wait!” Martin said, and the nasty glares started heading his way. “I don’t worship the devil!

“Lies. Lies and slander.” a rando student interjected. “You know that right Ms. Donovan?

Ms. Donovan began recounting all the papers she had collected this week. “I did receive a story about someone talking to themselves about someone dismembering their grandmother, now that I think about it?”

“To cremate her, Jermaine! She died of cancer last week!” Martin screamed.

“You’re the one to talk about lies Jermaine,” interjected yet another student. “Especially with you keeping Becky and Nae wrapped around your little finger.” Jermaine blushed furiously at such an accusation. He met the questioning gazes of Becky and Nae at the corner of the classroom.

“Oh really, Tyrone. And where are your receipts?” Jermaine replied.

“In Ms. Donovan’s hands,” Tyrone answered.

It was like a butterfly effect. First, some outlandish claim of a student up to degeneracy, and then another student calling the one who made the claim out over a secret of their own. Rinse and repeat. Ms. Donovan’s mind opened to comprehend the cancel culture cacophony she had birthed upon this class. Maybe upon the other classes that she gave this assignment to as well. Ms. Donovan closed her mind to the chaos and quietly opened the package Devon and Gave left on the desk. Nesting beneath the wrapping was not the funk-ridden parasite speculated by her or Martin. Instead, books. A shelf-load of Octavia Butler’s strongest bestsellers, from Parable of the Sower To the historical mystery, Kindred.

Ms. Donovan literally gasped. When in the zone, her lectures had a habit of segueing from the class topic to the books she had queued up on her Amazon Cart. At the top of her list was Butler’s work. She’d gush about it all the time in class, and if possible, would gush about it until the heat-death of the universe. This whole situation has been one fatal misunderstanding after another.

“Stop.” Ms. Donovan shushed the classroom. It’s time to make things right again. “I’ve ascertained for myself that Devon and Gabe did not give me a skunk for Hanukkah, so I’ve decided that this assignment will be cancelled. I’ll give you all A for extra credit, instead.” Ms. Donovan already saw some of the student’s gape at a free A.

“Some of you turned in work completely different from what I asked. But most of you wrote stuff about your classmates which most likely isn’t true. It’s not nice to eavesdrop on people anyways. So, I’ll give you all an A for Hannukah.”

A gradual quiet settled among the class, then sooner over later, everyone had played the game of forgive and forget. Ms. Donovan apologized earnestly to the boys and ensured Martin did the same. Along with that news came information that made the entire puzzle fit together.

“A prank war?” Martin asked.

“Our cousin, Donovan, has been pranking us for a while now. Last time, he put a booger into our burgers the last time we were there.” Devon explained.

 “So, we were going to get my pet skunk to do put in a little work,” Gabe added. “And it was only going to be around his house, not inside of it. As crappy a cousin as he is, we don’t want his family to have to get their house fumigated.”

“If that’s a concern you boys have, I truly wonder how you’ve domesticated it.” Ms. Donovan said.

“Hey, sorry about your grandma and for calling you a satanist” Gabe said. “That’s gotta be tough. Seeing someone you care about die. It’s cool if you want ashes as a way to remember her.”

“I appreciate it," Martin said, even smiling a bit.

Martin and the two skunk brothers were the last to give their goodbyes before she could get in the car. Thinking back, that crisis was funnier than anything. Hearing so many incorrect accusations and claims, It’d felt like she’d reached the final chapter of a novel.

Her consciousness cleared, Ms. Donovan started the engine and drove home, intent on crashing onto her sofa and enjoying the Hanukkah books series that had been given.

“