Pepe LePew

Just another day in paradise!
That's the credo most of us campers invoke to express our facetious satisfaction with our realm of existence.
Alas, critterdom doesn't always agree with that symbolic anthem of welcoming a new day.
Their priorities revolve around feeding their faces and if you have food in your tent, then it's better to receive than give.
I've inherited a family of skunks who've chewed holes in my tent and welcomed themselves inside.
I'm a giving and forgiving altruistic soul, but my patience and perseverance are seriously being tested by Pepe LePew and his kinfolks.
Whenever I seek advice, Max Leichner, a local proprietor swears by moth balls.
His best friend Eddie Johnson even supplied me with a box.
That worked wonders (for a couple of nights) because I heard skunk sneezing.
But the skunks quickly adapted to the smell and now come in whenever they please.
I used duct tape to sew up their chewing, but that still isn't sufficient for the skulking skunks.
This morning I heard some gnawing and voila, Pepe LePew, how do you do?
That's not my idea of a harmonious day in paradise.
So, I ventured forth to Bentonville to meet and greet Kent Marts, editor extraordinaire of the Benton County Daily Record. His hunting persona kicked in and he advised the old fashioned remedy -- a pistol wrapped in a towel.
Wham, bam, thank you ma'am (if Pepe is really a female), then that might be the ticket to alleviating my skunk alarm(ing) way to start the day.
But I'm more of an Albert Schweitzerian at heart and can't fathom killing skunks just because they're hungry and desire some satisfaction from my food stamp oriented snacks.
So, readerdom provide me with some relief!