Tae wrote:
When I was living in the Alsston/Brighton area of Boston, I had the first floor of a lovely house in a quiet residential area. An attorney had bought the house as an investment, and had re-done *everything* in the house. So, it was quite beautiful, when we first moved in.
My housemates and I would greet the morning with cups of coffee, and high-powered air rifles, sitting on the back porch which overlooked a small, forresty-like clearing surrounded by apartment buildings. Our prey? Squirrels - or as one of my housemates quipped:"They're just tree-rats.." My sentiments indeed.
We lay in wait for the furry creatures, talking about sports, beer, who got to park in the off-street parking lot that week (hotly debated topic), beer, until a squirrel would enter our "kill-zone". Then, soft lead pellets would fly, hopefully to fell one of ferocious tree-rat (you should see them when cornered), but most often only to shatter an apartment window, or two.
When one of the most wily of urban-jungle creatures was shot, we would leave the porch to gather the sometimes still moving animal (which was dispatched with all the speed due to this noble creature), and beleiving that you eat what you kill, would skin and dress them. I tried squirrel once - very gamey, not to mention quite chewy, and we all quickly agreed our future catches would go to feeding our house cat - seeing as how we could no longer afford the manufactured cat-food sold by the running dogs of imperialism.
But even the cat had some semblance of good taste, as it bravely quafed down each morsel that was offered to it - since it had no other food to eat. It also quickly puked up every morsel it quaffed down - which brought upon it the discipline it so richly deserved. Eventually, a large stockpile of squirrel carcasses (neatly wrapped in plastic and tin-foil) grew in our freezer. And eventually, as good things must, we all parted ways. Some to further their education, others to fulfill the requirements of their parole officers. As the last occupant of the house, it was up to me to clean it up, and to leave it *just* the way we had found it when we first rented those many years ago... Sure.
After throwing as many clothes I could into garbage bags, I screwed out of there. Leaving behind *many* holes in the walls, piles of garbage, and half a dozen frozen (and dressed) squirrel carcasses in the freezer, suitable for a party of six, or one cat for a week. I also neglected to inform the power company of our departure, necesitating the shutting-off of our power. The landlord, who lived in the burbs, never came by to check on us (sucker) and rented the house to two women attending a nearby college. They were to move in two months after we departed.
I called several months after I moved out to see if I could get some of my security deposit back (folly). Once the landlord realised who was on the other end of the phone, he started screaming hysterically. Snippets: "the piles of garbage", "hardwood floor", "holes in the walls", "modeling clay on the ceilings", "broken water pipes", "rotting something in the freezer..", "girls wouldn't move in","had to replace refrigerator","thousands of dollars of repairs" I got the impression I was not going to get my deposit back, but that's what deposits are for. After telling him I moved to another state, I hung up. Thinking about this, I realized that the power company had shut-off the power, the carcasses had defrosted, and sat there, in a dark, airless compartment for over two months. I _almost_ cringe thinking what it was like for those two girls to open the freezer after sooo long. Almost.
- Tae
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brontochick followed up:
Tae wrote: "Thinking about this, I realized that the power company had shut-off the power, the carcasses had defrosted, and sat there, in a dark, airless compartment for over two months. I _almost_ cringe thinking what it was like for those two girls to open the freezer after sooo long. Almost."
There's a dead squirrel beside the path to my house-- it dropped down out of the blue one day and is now reposing (and decomposing) happily atop a pile of last year's rotten leaves. As I go by on my way to class every morning, I like to stop and examine its progress towards oblivion. at first it looked pretty much like a normal treerat, but as the days went by I noticed that its eyes had disappeared, leaving gaping, oozing dark red sockets. Now its mouth and under-belly are starting to cave in, leaving interesting contours in the scabrous skin revealed by its rapidly disappearing fur. Anyone hungry?
-bc
ObTasteless: My yeast infection continues to grow apace, although now I have lovely medicine for it. More varieties of funny-smelling cream than you can shake a tampon at, and, even more fun, vegetable-oil based suppositories that I have to put in with this little plunger-thing (one of those doodads that looks so carefully innocuous that you know it has to have some sort of tasteless use. Maybe I should auction it off. Anyone want?). Anyhow, the upshot of all this is zhat every morning, I wake up well nigh adrift in a sea of rancid vegetable oil, curdled cream, and yeast chunks. Makes for a nice wake-me-up, though!
(Originally posted on Wed, 6 Apr 1994)
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