In March, my adorable son went to Florida with his grandmother. He came home with a severed reptile head in a bag, specifically a baby alligator. fantastic. He seemed to like it, so I let him keep it.
It sits on the top of his armoir. Staring with black, plastic ball eyes. At me. When I dust the furniture.
Now, I touched the head when it first arrived. I put it on the armoir. However, I’m finding that the more I spend time with the severed head, the less I like it…and I am becoming less willing to touch it.
There’s bad juju in dead things, probably moreso in severed youngling heads. It totally freaks me out. All I can think about when I see it is how it used to be attached to a living being with a brain that thought little gator thoughts that didn’t involve the notion that its noggin would later serve as a decoration in my son’s bedroom.
I no longer move it when I dust because I can’t handle the heebie-jeebies I get from touching it. In six months, it will probably look like it’s sitting in a pile of fuzzy snow.
But, my baby likes it, and so the remains remain.
Other places to find me:
Lulu storefront, which lists my debut novel She Who is Vengeance – http://stores.lulu.com/store.php?fAcctID=4584399