The door between the kitchen and the shed burst open, and the three “women” sort of, plunged, into the shed. Phyllis, talking at 100 miles an hour, “Can I see him, Please?”, “Can I, Can I!” her arms and hands quivering with excitement and sincerity. Hank said evenly but firmly, “No.” He continued, “We just got him in the box we are not going to risk losing him again.”
Linda asked, “What now?” Hank, replied, in a matter of fact we do this stuff all the time tone, “We’ll take him to the edge of the woods and pull the jar off.” Linda raised her eyebrows in disbelief. Art had always known his mother could communicate without saying a word. Art knew she was not convinced.
Then Hank handed the boxed skunk to Art and said, “We better get him outside.” They took the first door that would let them into the yard. As they left the inside, the bright morning light blinded them both for a moment. And on top of that, Art’s vision was partially blocked by the box he was carrying. That combined with the fact that the exit they were using was rarely used (except for bringing fire wood in) caused Art to miss the top step. He fell forward letting the box go in one direction as he went in the other. Both boy and box tumbled down the slight grade of the lawn to the driveway. Hank lunged for the box.