I was in the flea-markety basement of Street of Shops, the closest thing I’ve seen to a bazaar for freaks, weeding through old dishes and dated cookbooks and discarded dolls and rusted cookie tins. Lest you wonder why I was there, you can find treasures at the Street of Shops. I’ve found the dishes I use every day. I’ve found some great furniture. And today, I found…this.
That’s right. It’s an orange lucite deer, chained around the throat to its own fawns. And the whole deer family looks a little deranged.
Not that it’s not understandable. Because as much as I love my mother, I don’t think I’d thrive if I was chained to her.
I have them set up so that they’ll blaze bright every morning in the rising sun, because who doesn’t want to feast their eyes on that every day while making one’s coffee?
Even my adorable woodland deer salt and pepper shakers look on in bewilderment. George pointed out to me that I paid good money for them and I maintain that they would be a bargain at twice the price. Because you don’t just come across beauties like this every day.
I can’t believe someone got rid of them in the first place.