November 21, 2009

Scenes From Suburban Hell (An Irregular Feature)

This morning I was busy cleaning the house. I'd gathered up several bags of trash and took them out through the garage and through the side door, where our big garbage can is stored. When I opened the door and stepped through, I looked at the side of our neighbors house and saw this:


I stared at it for a couple of seconds and thought to myself "No, that must be one of those trophy wall mounts that this guy decided he didn't want anymore, so he put it out by the trash".

But there wasn't any wood plaque on the back, and the eyes looked sort of funny, and there were flies buzzing around it. So I got a little closer ... and :

AAAAAAAH! A Severed Deer Head!

This is so typical of this guy. He, his wife and his two kids are all nice enough people, but he has a penchant for collecting junk. I've come home to find his yard full of bicycles that he bought at an auction. Another time his driveway was filled with old lawnmowers, and then wheelbarrows ... I'm sure if he was certain he wouldn't get fined, he'd have a rusty old car jacked up on cinder blocks in the front yard with a "For Sale" sign in front of it.

And, as you might have guessed, he is a hunter. A bow hunter to be exact, the purists of the hunting world. When he is not out bow hunting, or collecting junk, he likes to use me for target practice in his back yard.

From past experience, I know that the severed deer head is going no where. It will sit there all winter and into the spring, letting the forces of nature wear away the hide, sinew, muscle and flesh down to the bare skull. And then he will put it in his special "garden" in one corner of his front yard, where it will join the other deer skulls, a dead sapling in a rusty coffee can and a half inflated Canadian goose decoy to delight all the visitors to our humble cul-de-sac.

And I know exactly what's going through your minds. You're thinking "Rob, you must take pictures chronicling the decay process and update us on it's progress from time to time". And gentle readers, you can be assured that I will be there for you.

To do this right, I'll need to personalize this partial former resident of the forest. I need to give him a name. In honor of all of the flies that were busily feasting on him today, I'm going to call him ...


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