The origin of the name Dead Skunk is murky.  A few things are known for sure. In the Summer of 2002 the future Editors of Dead Skunk were destitute and without a plan, working temp jobs in the Parks & Rec department in an undisclosed region of rural Appalachia.

 

During the hottest July on record they witnessed one skunk after another forget to look left then right before crossing the highway. The results were devastating. The smell was, well, not great.

 

After each soul-crushing incident the Editors would flee to a 24-hour diner to steady their nerves over coffee and waffles. This is where the details get hazy.

 

Allegedly, the Editors soon observed the diner was always in a slightly different location. Also, it's rumored that the establishment didn't have a sign out front or any name posted inside. Locals report the Editors questioned them about an unnamed diner that only appears after skunks die but those stories could not be independently confirmed.

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The only reason the above details are known is due to a former coworker who claims to have stolen one of their field journals. The field journal was unfortunately "accidentally tossed on a burn pile" and destroyed, but the coworker claims the contents described one horrifically humid, rainy day when the unthinkable happened: Every skunk in town waltzed up and down the highway without incident. To celebrate, the Editors sought out their favorite greasy spoon.

 

It was nowhere to be found.

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When the Editors were asked to go on the record about all this, they refused.  But, somehow,  the story  spread and rumors of the diner as a supernatural resting place for dead skunks became commonplace throughout the county (population 300).

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Lest anyone attempt to put a sinister spin on the happenings in the mysterious diner's kitchen, it should be noted it was a strictly vegetarian establishment with a 100% meatless menu.

 

TO BE CONTINUED. . . .   

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