Yesterday I went out to the nearby market because we live in rural Texas so we go to all the various country fairs and trade days because that’s what we have instead of a mall. They are awesome and terrible and I never come home without part of an iron lung, or a 60 year old book about “why naked midgets are awesome”. Yesterday at one stop I found 100′s of doll heads on spikes. It stretched on for a half-acre. Also, the doll torsos and limbs were in various buckets around, so it was sort of like Build-a-Bear except that you end up with a misproportioned, evil doll that will probably eat your nose off while you sleep.
Even the demon on the right was having a panic attack:
But it wasn’t *all* doll heads on spikes.
Also, this isn’t even half of the heads-on-spikes and none of them were marked for sale. It was like some sort of Stephen King art installation had accidentally fallen into the center of a market. There wasn’t a vendor there but no one shoplifted from him. Probably because you don’t want to fuck with someone who sticks baby heads on spikes. And because practically no one wants to steal baby heads on spikes. Both of these things are true.
I did find several other treasures though from other vendors. I found a children’s book of illustrated corpses, complete with color pictures and when I insisted I needed to have it Victor and I both screamed, “IT’S THREE DOLLARS”.
For different reasons though, apparently.
Then I bought a taxidermied duckling (that died of natural causes) and Victor was all “What the fuck are you going to do with a taxidermied duck?” and I was all “What wouldn’t I do with a taxidermied duck?” It’s like he’s never even met me.
Then I explained that ducks wearing hats were impossible to turn down and he said that the duck didn’t have a hat and I explained that Martin Van Buren’s hat was invisible, but that I’d already bought it and it was already waiting at home in the dollhouse for him. That’s how ready I was for Martin Van Buren. And also I explained that his name was Martin Van Buren. Then Hailey started begging Victor for Duckie Van Buren and Victor explained that we weren’t going to spend $20 on a fragile ancient duckling I’d probably break immediately and Hailey pointed out that if he got broken “we could fix him with duck tape”. Then I melted from the cuteness and promised her a (probably taxidermied) pony, and Victor looked at us worriedly and wondered when Hailey had joined my strange alliance. Then I explained that I would make Martin Van Buren into a vampire hunter and then Victor said he’d buy him if I just stopped talking. EVERYONE WINS.
Especially Martin Van Buren, who looks like a damn bad-ass in his top-hat, holding a bloody spike he just used to impale a nonsexy vampire.
I showed the scene to Victor and he sighed and agreed that it was very frightening but (he pointed out) not for the reasons I’d intended.
Wow. This post was meant to make it up to you for being MIA so much but now I think I owe you an apology for making you look at Vampire-hunting ducks and baby heads on spikes. BUT! There is one very important part I can’t miss. Because when we first drove up to the market I screamed “HOLY SHITSNACKS, IT’S A FLOCK OF BEYONCES”. Because it was. And Victor glared at me while I haggled for a smallish sort of giant metal chicken who desperately wanted a home and he accused me of having some sort of a metal chicken hoarding problem. But then I pointed out that I was buying this apartment sized metal chicken for you. Yes, you. Because I love you. But I can’t afford to buy chickens all of you so instead I’m randomly selecting one of you to actually win it. Granted, your spouse might hate it, but you can point out that at least it’s not towels, which has always worked for me.
I took two pictures, but Ferris Mewler managed to squirrel his way into them so you’ll have to ignore him. Or use him for scale.
Anyway, as a very large thank you for not deserting me while I’ve been busy with book stuff I will randomly select one of you from the comments below to win the mini-Beyonce. All you have to do is tell me what you would name him if he was yours.
The names “Beyonce” and “Martin Van Buren” are spoken for.
UPDATED: Holy crap, you guys. That’s a lot of people wanting chicken. Also, thank you so much for distracting me from the fact that tonight I’m spending tonight in a hospital so they can see if I’m having seizures in my sleep because apparently I don’t have enough shit wrong with me. (If they let me have my phone I will -of course - be live-tweeting the whole thing.) And in appreciation for offering up such twisted names (so brilliant that I’m tempted to adopt an orphanage just to have kids to name) that I’ve convinced my editor to send me a couple of advance copies of my book to give out as well. The advance copies are soft-cover and have typos and the pictures are low resolution, but you’ll be able to read my book 2 months before it’s available. Or you can use it to fix a wobbly table. Either way, really.
PS. Seriously. Thank you. You have no idea how much I needed the laugh today. I’ll pick the winners this week.
UPDATED X 2: Holy crap. That’s a lot of people wanting chicken. Winners announced over here.