An Erie Operetta by V.L. Locey Page A

pushed on the lid. It swiveled to the side just enough for a skunk paw. The first treasure I extracted was a glob of wax. I held it between my front paws to study it. Thinking it useless, I threw it over my shoulder then reached into the goodie chest again. This time I pulled out a clump of golden wool. Odd. I chucked the stinky old wad of sheep clippings to join the glob of wax. Once more into the chest went my nimble paw. This time my fingers found a tightly wrapped bit of paper. I wiggled the scroll free. It was yellowed and quite fragile looking. The smell of the sea seemed to be growing stronger. I lay the paper down after clearing a spot then stretched over it to spread the scroll open.
    With a paw on each corner I saw that the words were nothing I could read. I picked up my feet. The scroll crumpled into bits. Shit. Well, nothing to do for it now. I reached into the box yet again. The heater blew hot air over me. The long whiskers over my eyes rustled in the hot air. I blinked to moisten my eyes. I latched onto something small yet firm and pulled it free. My eyes went round when I saw the mummified human finger resting in my paw. I squeaked in horror. The wrinkled, grey finger flew into the air. The door opened with a tremendous bang. I stared into the angry lavender eyes of Adelphe Panagakos. Several other blurry women appeared in the hall behind her, each with fearsome expressions. I did what a skunk always does when presented with a group of irate women in funky costumes. I showed them my ass, stomped my feet, then rolled my lip just for good measure.
    Normally people draw back in fear when they see a skunk about to douse them. Not these women. They chattered at me in what I assumed to be Greek, their hands gesticulating wildly. I stomped my back feet again when the soprano entered her dressing room, her touring company bringing up her rear. She spit what sounded like a vile word at me. I snapped at her, giving her a final warning before I let the stink go. My tail quivered as it arched over my back. Then the diva began to morph into something far less lovely than she had been. My fluffy black and white tail drooped as my primal fears roared to life.
    Before me stood a creature that was a terrifying conglomeration of woman and bird. Ms. Panagakos now had the legs, wings, and head of a white raptor while sporting the torso of a woman. Her costume fluttered down to the floor in shreds. I suddenly was having trouble breathing. Among the few things that eat skunks regularly are birds of prey, owls and hawks especially. Birds have a very poor sense of smell, which is why they’re known to snack on stripers. I have nightmares about owls. Seriously. That messenger of Harry Potter’s makes me break into a cold sweat every time I see it.
    I whipped around, sending bottles of nail polish careening to the floor. The woman opened her beak. A terrible squawk rolled out instead of a song. I blinked in terror, then made a wild-eyed dash. Down to the ground I jumped. I skidded around the ugliest, and largest, chicken legs I had ever seen. I swore right then I would never eat KFC again. The siren spun around, her wide white wings tipping over stands with clothes. The women in the hall all changed as well. I backpedaled. Birds everywhere! And not an olfactory among them. Ms. Panagakos hopped closer. I lunged at her toes when she tried to grab me. One of her sisters fell on me, wrapping her large foot tightly around my midsection.
    I writhed, squealed, bit, then flooded the air with musk, all to no avail. The siren that held me in one oversized sparrow foot skipped ungracefully back into the diva’s dressing room. The sirens’ heads changed from birds back to women. The better to lure men to their deaths with, my pretty. I felt lightheaded with fear. The siren with the human head completed her transformation. She gagged when the cloud of musk hit her nose. Good. A trunk was cleared out. Wings flapped in vexation. I was thrown into