The First Man Ever to Decorate His Home with Hunting Trophies Tries to Sell His Wife on the Idea: A Dramatic Monologue
Snide Remarks #667
"The First Man Ever to Decorate His Home with Hunting Trophies Tries to Sell His Wife on the Idea: A Dramatic Monologue"
by Eric D. Snider
Published on June 12, 2012
Hey, honey? I had some decorating ideas for when we move to the new house.
Now, just hear me out, OK?
So I was thinking we should put the nice recliners in that nook by the big windows, you know? And maybe buy a settee for over near the fireplace?
And then I was also thinking maybe a moose head on the wall?
Uh, it’s like a long upholstered seat.
Oh, that! Yeah. A moose head.
What do you mean “what do you mean?”? I’ll take the head of a moose, attach it to a flat piece of wood, and nail it to the wall.
What? Why not?? You got to put up those pictures of your parents!
The actual head of an actual moose, yes. A dead moose, obviously. Sorry, I should have mentioned that. It will be the head of a moose that has died. Not a living moose. That would be insane.
Well, yes, the antlers too. Why would I take off the antlers? Look, honey, I don’t want to be rude, but what part of this aren’t you getting? I’m going to take my rifle into the woods, shoot a moose with it, then sever the dead animal’s head from its body and hang it – i.e., the head – on the wall.
No, not as a warning to the other mooses. As a decoration! I don’t think “mooses” is even the right word. And how would it be a warning to other moose, anyway? There aren’t going to be any moose in our house!
OK, there will be ONE moose in our house. But it will be dead, and just the head. There aren’t going to be any live “mooses” in the house.
Well, yes, I do think it’s a little silly for you to assume that I intend to bring live woodland creatures into our home, actually. I’ve said nothing of the kind! I’m talking about one creature, and only its decapitated head, which I’m going to nail to the wall. It’s not like I’m inviting a herd of moose to graze in our kitchen or whatever.
I mean, come on, Susan.
No, there won’t still be blood dripping from the neck! Yeesh!
Ah! Now there’s a good question! What I was thinking I’d do is hollow out the head and fill it with sawdust, so there’s nothing left to rot. It won’t smell at all. It’ll be as sanitary as a vase!
Oh, they’ll be open, for sure. You don’t want the eyes closed. What, so it looks like it’s dead? That would be lame, honey. I know this isn’t really your thing, but just so you know, a moose head with closed eyes would be lame. You want it to look alive and vibrant, so you can really appreciate the majestic beauty of nature!
The majestic beauty of nature in the form of a dead moose’s severed head, yes. Exactly. Although I feel like you’re being sarcastic.
Haven’t you ever accomplished something significant and wanted to keep a reminder of it floating above you at all times? Just hovering in midair, like a gruesome specter that gazes down upon you forever? So any time you want, you can just look up and be like, “Oh, yeah. I killed a moose!”?
I don’t know, maybe it’s a guy thing.
OK, OK, we can come back to the moose head. Along those same lines, though, I’ve also got this rug made out of a bear that I was thinking we could spread in front of the fireplace, and maybe sometimes make love on top of it.
A bear, yeah. No, not just the head, the whole thing. I mean, I took out the skeleton and guts and stuff, so it’s flat. It’s really just the skin.
Oh, and the fur. It still has the fur! Ha ha, you were thinking I had a shaved, hairless, deflated bear! That’s hilarious. Oh, honey, that’s cute.
Basically, picture a bear that’s been run over by a steamroller in a cartoon. That’s pretty much what it looks like. Except that the head isn’t flat. The head is still head-shaped. But everything below the head is flat. It’s a very soft, comfortable rug. Very nice for snuggling.
Snuggling ON, I mean. Not snuggling WITH. You and I could lie down on the dead, flat bear, and, you know, see what happens…
Mmm, we’re on the bear’s back, I guess. Yeah. The bear is on its stomach, so we’re on its back. And it’s facing away from us.
Eyes open, yeah. The eyes are always open.
Well, I don’t know if I would have put it in those terms, but yeah, I guess I like the idea of making love to my wife on the back of a deceased, horizontal bear whose eyes are open as if it were still living and breathing.
Sure, you can think about it. We don’t have to decide anything right this minute.
There’s one other thing. Remember how I accidentally ran over that cat with the car a few weeks ago? Now, just hear me out….
Copyright © Eric D. Snider.
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