I packed my bag with the usual tools plus a few extras, deciding to take some air freshener along this time for good measure. Walking past people on the street with a bulging trash bag which stinks of pure death doesn’t exactly leave much up to the imagination.
Thankfully I lived on the outskirts of a fairly large city, offering me ample opportunity to scour the streets for fresh fur. Well, ‘fresh’ probably isn’t the right word. New fur, its potential, limitless. Sometimes I’d hike out to the vast network of country roads a few hours away and spend the entire day there. Ever watchful for the animals that were just right.
Nobody had any idea how I spent my time. I lived alone, and my only visitor would be the occasional check-in from my social worker. She was a dreary young woman with shoulder length blonde hair and a cute little mole on her cheek. She seemed worn out by the job. Her demeanor became greyer with each court mandated visit. I, on the other hand, felt empowered by her company. There was no affection in our interactions. They were dry, painfully formal exchanges as ball-shriveling as any conversation I’ve ever had with my parents. But something about her presence was comforting. The seclusion from the outside world had made me so desperate that seeing her pull up in my driveway for her twenty-minute-long appointments would make my heart skip. I was enamored. So I started thinking about how I could make her notice me… really notice me.
I arrived back at the house just as it was getting dark. Nobody had seen me this time and I was happy with the night’s haul. I swished the heavy black bag from over my shoulder and dumped it outside the shed round back where I performed my ‘operations’. I slid the key into the rusty padlock before dropping it by the door, then I reached inside and equipped my surgical mask and the newish pair of heavy duty kitchen gloves I’d just bought a day or two prior, already stained a dark red color. I probably should’ve been washing them after each surgery, but I suppose hindsight is twenty-twenty.
I was mid-transformation when the doorbell I’d connected up to the small shed rang loud. Startled, I piled everything on the workbench along with my mask and gloves into the deep open drawer below and hurriedly put the padlock back on the door. I hustled around the outside of the house to see a police car parked on the street. “Shit.” I thought. “What now?”
The officer was a short, older man. Fat, too. The type of cop you see and wonder how they ever made it past the training in the first place. His eyes locked with mine as I slowly closed the distance.
“Evening, officer!” I called over, trying to seem casual. He looked me up and down and shot me a suspicious look.
“Everything all right tonight, sir?”
“What the hell does this pig want?” I seethed internally, annoyed that my important work had been interrupted. “Oh yeah, absolutely. Never been better. Why?”
“You’ve got blood on you. Care to explain that?”
I really should be more careful. I’ll have to invest in some coveralls next time I’m at the store. “That? Oh yeah, my buddy and I were driving home after some fishing and we hit a deer. I had to finish ‘im off. I’m squeamish, but my friend’s even worse so I really didn’t have a choice, did I?. Couldn’t exactly let the poor thing suffer, now could I?” I let out a nervous laugh that I was trying to keep contained, hoping maybe the cop would join in. He didn’t.
Luckily, though, he seemed to buy the story and proceeded to remove a small notepad from his back pocket, a sheen of sweat glistened across its glossy cover in the moonlight.
“Well, I won’t take up much more of your time, sir. I just have a few questions, I’ve been asking everyone in the neighborhood… As you’ve probably heard we’ve had some disappearances in town recently. Seen any suspicious persons hanging around? Anything out of the ordinary?” The cop clicked his pen, turned to a fresh page and prepared to take notes.
“Umm, well, y’know I’ve seen some shady looking cars roll by over the last couple weeks. Gangs… or drug dealers probably… Or drug gangs… Think they could have anything to do with it?”
The cop raised an eyebrow and lowered his sunglasses which were still on for some inexplicable reason even though it was dark out by that point. He snapped his notebook closed without writing anything and with one last up and down glance and a ‘You have a good night now, sir’, he hopped back into his squad car and sped away. I felt so tired. Work could wait until morning. I was on the cusp of finishing my masterpiece and it couldn’t be perfected through fatigue. It needed to be just right…
The following few days sped past in a blur of sawing and sewing, working furiously in anticipation of Anna the social worker’s next visit. I was just adding the finishing touches when I heard the knock at the door. Anxiously I draped the sheet back over and rushed to finally reveal the real me to my soulmate. I undid the locks and the door to destiny swung open.
“Anna! So lovely to see you!”
She looked exhausted, which made me feel sad, although I really couldn’t blame her. I can only imagine the creeps a girl like her must have to deal with everyday. I’d probably be more than a little jaded myself in her position.
“Samuel, you’re looking… well. Have you been taking your medication?”
The word “well” rolled off her tongue like it stung to say, and I began to question whether I was doing the right thing. She was beautiful, sure. But was she truly the one? I ignored those doubts and I invited her in.
“Well, have you? You know how important it is that we stay on top of this… We really can’t afford another incident like last time.”
“Oh, yes, of course. I’ve been taking enough. Shit, sometimes more if I have trouble sleeping.” I said, probably a little too excitedly.
She was clearly already zoning out before I even finished my sentence and I could tell she wasn’t planning to stay for her usual quarter-hour playdate.
“Y’know, I’ve been working on something really hard lately. I’d love it if you’d take a look and let me know what you think. Hell, I think I could even make it into one of those fancy art exhibits down at the museum.”
She cleared her throat and with her voice softening slightly she replied wearily, “That’s great, Samuel. Really. I think that’s a very constructive way that you’ve chosen to express your emotions. I read in your report about how while you were in the hospital you were very involved in the art program. I’m glad you’re keeping up with that. I’m sure your work is… great, but I really have to get going. I have another meeting scheduled in ten minutes and the traffic is…”
My heart shriveled but my resolve held strong. I tried not to let her see how much she had hurt me.
“Oh, okay. If you really have to be going… I’ll walk you out.”
I started towards the front door, and as she stood up to follow me I yanked the sheet away from on top of my magnum opus, clumps of matted fur and maggots fell to the floor with it along with a dusting of powdered detergent. I spun around to face my bride for all time and I yelled,
“WHADDAYA THINK, BABY! IS THIS IT OR WHAATT!!”
A chalk-white color claimed her complexion as she took in what was in front of her. Secured around the top of a wooden coat rack with duct tape and staples was the mound of gutted animal carcasses I’d spent the last month procuring. The torsos of raccoons, rats, foxes, rabbits and a whole assortment of other wild things in various states of decomposition were balled into a molting mass of death. Their limbs sewn into the sides to create the impression of a Great Spider, with a great many legs. And atop the Great Spider were my prized possessions. The scalps… adorning my masterpiece like a glorious crown of blonde and brunette and gray and redhead. They weren’t quite dead when I found them… Well, most of them anyway… in their homes and on their ways to and from work… all those late nights. But their sacrifice allowed for this one glorious moment in the sun. Something to tell the grandkids about. And then, just like that, all of the illusions were shattered. She rejected me, running screaming, fleeing out the front door… brushing right past me.
I’ve been back in the hospital for just over six years now. The media has taken to calling me “Sam the Scalper”, if you’ve ever heard such a ridiculous thing. People always miss the point. I’m not allowed to do interviews, and I don’t want to. All I want to do now is count the days until I can see my sweet Anna again, and begin work on a new creation that really will win her heart once and for all.
I think I’ll use dogs this time. She loves dogs.