Page 40 of Having the Time of My Midlife

“That’s right!” Gram added. “We’re the Father, Son and Holy Ghost. Ain’t no one that can beat that.”

I wanted to point out that she was nuts, but the army of skunks that entered the stage shocked me to silence. They were armed with tiny grenades and razor-sharp swords. It was not right.

They were scared, angry and unbelievably cute. I had a thing for small furry creatures. Not that skunks were like dogs or even cats, but they were cute. Of course, the fact that they were armed was alarming…

“Am I wrong or are they kind of adorable?” Alana Catherine whispered.

“Like mother, like daughter,” I said with a wince. “Yes, they’re cute, but they also look deadly.”

“No sudden movements,” Gram whispered, horrified by the sight. “They blow butt bombs when they’re startled.”

“Umm… mom,” Alana Catherine said.

“What?”

“You have a fertile imagination,” she stated flatly. “You might want to keep that in check.”

I closed my eyes. This was my fault. Bringing up skunks was going to bite us in the ass or worse.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

The skunks didn’t seemfriendly. There were about fifty of them, and they’d spread themselves out around the large room. Most of them sat in the bleachers. They watched us with narrowed eyes and their little paws on their grenades. I couldn’t believe any of it. It was like a fever dream or a really bad comedy-horror movie. But this wasn’t a movie, and it definitely wasn’t a comedy. Cute or not, I’d end their smelly asses if they came at us.

I’d dealt with lots of deadly enemies in my short time as an Immortal. However, none of them were as sweet looking as the furballs sitting in the audience. How was this even happening?

“Do you think them little stinkers understand English?” Gram asked, barely moving her lips.

“Are you being for real?” I asked.

“Totally,” she said. “I ain’t never seen a skunk with a dang grenade before and they’re sittin’ like people for the love of everything strange. Didn’t think a skunk needed a weapon since their butts are weapons that smell bad enough to gag a maggot.”

Gram’s way with words never disappointed. And she was correct about them sitting like they were human. More than half had their little furry legs crossed. A couple even sat crisscross applesauce. It upped the adorable factor substantially. “Umm…I guess since this is from my unfortunate imagination that the skunks understand English.”

“That’s good,” she grunted.

“Why is that good, old lady?” I asked.

Gram leaned into Alana Catherine and me. With a lowered voice, she explained her plan. “Welp, it’s a well-known fact from the Animal Channel that skunks can be friendly and playful. Love me some Animal Channel. When I ain’t watching a game show, I love them sweeter than sugar rescue stories. So, what I’m sayin’ is that skunks ain’t all that bad. I mean aside from the knives, grenades and the resting bitch faces, they’re sorta irresistible.”

“They’re legal to own as pets in seventeen states,” Alana Catherine added.

I squinted at my child in disbelief. “How in the world do you know that? You were a baby this morning.”

She grinned and shrugged. “I’m with Aunt Jennifer a lot, and that woman knows a lot of insane facts.”

“Truth,” I muttered. Jennifer was the queen of weird and inappropriate trivia. Still, I hadn’t realized my baby’s brain had absorbed what she’d heard. Trying to make sense out of the senseless was a waste of time. I just went with it. “Okay, so skunks are playful and friendly and can be kept for pets.”

“In seventeen states,” my daughter repeated with a wink and a grin.

“Right. So, with that being said, why do you want to know if they speak English?” I asked Gram.

“Hear me out,” she said. “I know me some game show etiquette since I’m addicted to ‘em. Before every show, they have a warm-up act to get the audience into the spirit. It’s usually a comedian. I think them skunks are the audience, and I need to get them into the spirit so those stinkers don’t turn on us. Gotta wipe them resting bitch faces off them furry crittersand turn their frowns upside down. Get ‘em on our team so they don’t blow us up or aim a stinky at us that singes the hair right off our heads.”

“I think that might be one of the weirdest things you’ve ever said,” I told her.

“Weirder than when I told Verna Lee Smith that her pants were so tight, I could see her religion?” Gram questioned.

Alana Catherine tried not to laugh.

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