On the third day of adopting my dog, he woke me up at 3 AM to let me know he was going to make an urgent and massive mess. (Pro tip: when you get a rescue, ask a lot of detailed questions about their gut health. Like invasively detailed questions. Also have a lot of towels you’re prepared to part with).

Even in the darkness, the whites of his eyes told me it was a dire situation. Either I watch it unfold on the bedroom carpet or I get up and take him outside. A real Sophie’s Choice. While outside, he did his business and on our way to the back door, he spotted a critter in a bush and pounced. A sharp squeal came from the scuffle as an ungodly stench filled the air and invaded my psyche. I choked for air and forgot for a moment my name, my identity, my very being. All I knew was the poisonous stench seeping into my flesh and lungs.

My lovely husband awoke not to the sound, but to the stench of us walking into the back door of our 900 square foot condo and shunned me and the dog back outside. There we waited until 7 AM when the nearest Walmart would open and we could buy gallons upon gallons of anti-skunk shampoo. While the dog and I soaked in the tub for hours, my husband boiled vinegar on the stove and read facts to us from Quara.com about how the longer the skunk’s enzymes go unwashed, the more permanent they become. We have since recovered from that day and my nose has grown keen to the stench of the urban skunk while I walk my dog on a tight leash.

Everyone loves the trope of the werewolf curse but I posit to you that there is no greater curse a beast can lay on a civilized person than the full blast of a skunk’s noxious poison. The curse of the skunk is something I would wish upon my greatest enemies. But on the off chance you have a player that needs a blast of misfortune right to the face, consider throwing the unfortunate encounter of a Giant Skunk at them, branding them with the ultimate curse of Stankenthropy.

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