Igor Gets Skunked

Igor was poking around the ice box looking for the missing rabbit’s foot.

“How did this get in here?”

Igor held up the toupee and yelled for the creature.

“Is nothing sacred!” scolded Igor. “I’ve told you to leave my things alone!”

“Not know it yours” said the creature. “Me thought it was skunk from last road kill.”

“Road kill!” said Igor. “I’ll have you know this is a Morgana Foroshia designer hair enhancer all the way from America. Cost me 50 gold marks!”

“It still look like skunk from side of road,” said the creature. “Smell like skunk, too.”

Not one ounce of respect do I get around here, thought Igor. I nurture the blasted creature in the hopes he’ll make a useful companion and all I get are insults. I may as well be married.

Having found the lucky rabbit’s foot, Igor hung it around his neck and went to his first job interview.

“Welcome,” said the mortician. “And please leave your skunk tied outside. We don’t allow pets in the funeral parlor. They have a tendency to nibble the goods, if you know what I mean.”

“Skunk?” said Igor. “I’ll have you know this is a Morgana Forocia designer hair enhancer all the way from America!”

“Oh, sorry,” said the mortician. “Please, let us proceed with the interview.”

“50 gold marks!” said a notably irritated Igor. “Without postage and handling!”

“My apologies,” said the mortician. “Shall we proceed?”

“Yes,’ said Igor. “Sorry if I seem over sensitive. It shall not reflect on my work ethic. I’m a stickler for detail and following a chore to its inevitable conclusion.”

“Refreshing to hear,” said the mortician. “Have you had much experience with the dead?”

“You might say,” smiled Igor, “it’s in my blood.”

“Well, you don’t have to look all that delighted about it,” said the mortician. “We like to keep our staff somber and remorseful looking. You can’t go around the parlor looking delighted to see everyone. It would ruin the whole effect.”

“I can be your man,” said Igor. “I’ll even take my teeth out if you think it would help.”

“Not necessary,” said the mortician. “We’re simply looking for is someone to move the dearly departed in and out of the parlor. Have you had much experience in that department?”

Igor managed to repress a grin and look as grim as a the grim reaper himself.

“I have,” said Igor. “And I can get you excellent references. Need a dead thing moved? Igor’s your man, is what they’d say.”

“Please don’t ever refer to them as dead things,” said the mortician. “People have difficulty letting go. We prefer dearly departed or the heavenly bound.”

“When do I start?” said Igor.

“I’m still conducting an interview,” said the mortician. “And the more I consider it, the less I’m inclined to hire you.”

“Sir?”

“You appear overly fond of wearing dead things. And I don’t mean in a good way. Dead rabbits foot. Dead skunk -”

“I’ve told you,” said Igor. It’s a -”

“Yes, yes,” dismissed the mortician. “A Morgana Forocia hair enhancer from America.”

“Correct.”

“I know road kill when I see it. And we here at Frankfurter and Sons Funeral Home have more respect for the dead. We’re not in the habit of wearing the merchandise, if you will. I don’t think you’ll do at all.”

“But-”

“This interview is over, sir. Good day.”

******

Meanwhile, back in America Morgana Forocia was having a busy night in her horse and buggy.

“How many does that make, George?”

“We’ve got three raccoons. four squirrels and a dozen possum.”

“No skunks?” she said.

"Not one," said George.

“Then we’ll have make another run down the Morgan Creek turnpike," said Forocia. "They’re my biggest seller in Germany, you know. I can’t seem to keep up with the demand."

“Yehah, horsey!" yelled George. "Yehah!”