I had a two-fold mission that night: get to Killeen as quickly as possible while killing as few woodland critters as possible. The road was already littered with the skunk, deer, and occasional wild goose corpse that one comes to expect, driving the backroads on any given moonless night in Texas. I was determined not to add to this number–at Any cost.

Winged insects, though, were not so lucky. I have a passionate loathing for mosquitos, and any harmless butterfly, moth, or dragonfly that makes unfortunate contact with my windshield is excusable, so long as a few mosquitos share the same fa-OH MY GOD A SKUNK ON THE ROA-

That was all there was. A flurry of black and white striped fur, and a few unpleasant-smelling moments to take home. I had Grand Theft Auto’d the little fucker. He had run out of the tall grass at just the wrong moment, just like the Pokemon do in video games, and after that… well let’s just say Pikachu would’ve been shooting thunder bolts through a straw.