When Dead Animals Attack

When Dead Animals Attack

I get on the elevator at work the other day, there are two women already on standing near the back. I slide over towards the buttons and face the door. They're talking.

"Blah blah fur, oh I loved it, it was so soft, blah fur fur ermine mink blah blah chinchilla gotta have it..."

Chinchilla? Isn't that a fuzzy hamster/rabbit looking thing? They're making furs out of chinchilla's now?!

It was a reflex action, but I gave the big annoyed sign. "Hmph." I swear I didn't mean it. I didn't even look their way, I just wanted the damn elevator to open up so I didn't have to hear their drivel.

Silence. Then "whisper whisper whisper" from the woman facing me. I can feel her eyes burning into my back. Hurry up, elevator.

Woman 2. "Well I don't know what's wrong with these animal activists. Have they ever FELT a fur? It's so soft, how can they resist the temptation?"

I've never been so glad to see an elevator door open as I was at that moment.

Because I swear I'd have taken her fur, stuffed it down her throat, pulled it out of her ass and then put it BACK in her mouth.

I'm not an animal activist, really. I like leather. I have two leather jackets, a leather baseball cap, leather shoes. But I also eat beef. Lots of beef. My family is southern, so I'm all about the leftover parts too. Nothing goes to waste there.

What the fuck am I going to do with a mink after you've stripped it?!

...and a chinchilla? For the love of the gods, people...!

But I said nothing. It's too close to Xmas, and I can't afford to get on Santa's naughty list this late in the year.

Just don't let me see them after December 26th.