We know what you did...
Fortunately, the neighbors moved when I was 7 and were replaced with Best Friend, whose family not only had ZERO taxidermied animals, but who also had a Rainbow Brite bedspread and accessories, immediately catapulting her to the status of coolest kid EVER.
When I was in high school, I met the big game of dead animals while visiting family friends of my high school boyfriend. Seriously, the guy was a big game hunter. I’m pretty sure he looked like this:
Entering their den was like going to dead Africa. There were bear-skin rugs, side tables made of elephant feet, antelope heads and probably one of the ubiquitous squirrels. But it would’ve been an African squirrel, naturally.
Later on, in college, I worked in the lodge of a local state park. There was a badger, raccoon, deer head, several hawks, and again more squirrels displayed throughout the lodge. I worked second shift, and once things slowed down one of my duties was to grab a ladder and a feather duster and...dust the animals. Seriously, they were dust magnets.
Long story short, I’m pretty unfazed by dead animals at this point in my life. But then I watched this:
Close your eyes for a moment, and imagine:
You wake up in the morning.....Yawn.....need coffee. You go to make your coffee and what’s in the coffee bin.....a giant preserved tarantula?! DAMMIT.
This continues throughout the day
Shower = Dung Beetle.
Opening mail = Locust.
Happy hour = Giant Moth.
By the time Pajamas = Africanized Honey Bee, I don’t know about you, but I’d be feeling kind of stabby.
However, according to this guy, all of that would make for one fun day, indeed.
I beg to differ, but maybe it’s just me.
Because unlike my thriving relationship with dead squirrels, my relationship with insects is lukewarm at best.
*Note: I’m aware that the adjective forms of taxidermy are both taxidermal or taxidermic. But I prefer taxidermied. Because in my world, taxidermy is a verb as well as a noun. For example, “Who would like to taxidermy this dead opossum? Any takers?”