Love & Taxidermy
“So what did you think of that customer? She was a looker, huh Ralph?” says Hugo, positioning his queen within striking range.
A beaten-up transistor radio issues the only reply, as Brahms’ Hungarian Dance No. 1 wrestles with the am static.
“Why yes Ralph, she was easy on the eyes but what does that have to do with me? I am but an old buzzard and she; a shimmering peacock. Check.”
The stuffed black vulture continues staring straight ahead. Hugo had always preferred the company of a vulture to a peacock. He could identify with the buzzard, beautiful in its own right, living off death, repugnant… Peacocks were too pretty and simply too unattainable.
“It’s too bad we couldn’t mount her Black Spider Monkey” says Hugo, “but rules are rules. No endangered species, no matter how badly we need the business.”
Hugo turns to his mounted bear.
“As I was saying before Pierre…After the sword swallowers we used to have a wrestler fight a great big grizzly.”
Looking back to the chess match Hugo seizes his opportunity.
“Checkmate Ralphie boy, better luck next time! Har har!”
Pierre the taxidermied Kodiak bear remains frozen in a state of perpetual attack mode, mouth agape and sharp claws ready to strike. Ralph and Pierre had heard this story a hundred times, yet Hugo continues without interruption.
“Next after the bear tapped out and let the wrestler win, we would have the grand finale…”
All of the mounted animals, moose heads and wild boars, antelope and Arctic foxes alike, seem to join the chorus in finishing Hugo’s sentence:
“We shot a man out of a cannon over a tiger shark tank” they all recite in annoyed unison. “We put on the best show you’d ever seen, the best” they repeat unenthusiastically.
Two customers in one day was rare for Hugo but not unheard of, and if he thought the young woman with the Black Spider Monkey was beautiful, he was in no way prepared for the elegant Ava Swanson; Queen of the peacocks.
She enters the taxidermy shop in slow motion, the sun peeking through the clouds to cast light down upon her radiant, auburn locks. Her large, kind green eyes accent her soft facial features, her skin – polished white porcelain. In her delicate hands she carries something that would have seemed odd, had this been some other business instead of a taxidermy shop; a dead cat.
“Good day sir. Can you help me?” she asks Hugo. “This is Timothy” she says, placing the Egyptian Mau on top of the counter. “He was my sweet, sweet boy” says Ava, tearing up. “And…I was wondering…” her voice cracks and trails off as she pulls a silk handkerchief from her exquisitely-bejeweled leather purse.
“There there ma’am. Your dear c-cat will always be with you, even if the little guy has traveled on to that great big scratching p-post in the sky” stutters Hugo.
Ava gives a bashful smile as her ivory cheeks turn a rosy-red hue. She likes Hugo’s awkward sense of humor and considers him to be a savior of sorts, a preserver of furry friends. She doesn’t recoil at his quirkiness like so many others, but embraces the oddness and originality of the once-proud middle-aged man.
“Thank you ever so kindly Mr…?”
Ava extends her dainty hand and Hugo clumsily goes in for a shake.
“H-Hugo ma’am. You can call me Hugo.”
“Thank you ever so much Mr. Hugo. Timothy meant the world to me, and I will be forever in your debt. You are a good man Mr. Hugo, a very good man.”
And with that Ms. Swanson gives a polite smile and is on her way, back out into a world that is much too harsh for such a gentle creature as she. Hugo is entranced by this chance encounter and, try as he might, the taxidermist can’t get Ava out of his head for the rest of the day. However, one look in the mirror reminds him that such a lovely woman could never be attracted to such a washed-up troll.
“Who am I kidding Ralph? A beautiful lady like that doesn’t go for fat, bald, has-beens like me” says Hugo. With a shrug and a sigh he makes his way back up the creaky stairs to his small apartment and his quiet, solitary existence. There is no spotlight, no cheering crowd, and no showmanship, for Hugo the Entertainer has become a shadow of his former self as he shrinks from the spotlight back into his lonely, dark corner as shadows are wont to do…
***
Every morning before walking down to his taxidermy shop Hugo adjusts his impeccable comb-over and waxes his mustache until the ends coil up like two little pig tails. With his pot-belly protruding from his multi-colored wool sweater, his presentation is barely adequate for greeting customers let alone seducing beautiful women.
Hugo dismisses such romantic notions about Ava Swanson as foolish daydreams and tries to keep his mind on the task at hand. He goes about his work and finishes mounting Timothy in only a few days. Once completed Hugo nervously calls Ava to tell her that her Egyptian Mau is ready. Picking up the shop’s old rotary phone, he dials her number.
“M-Ms. Swanson? Timothy is finished, I think you’ll be p-pleased” Hugo nervously utters.
“Oh that’s splendid Hugo, simply splendid! I hope little Timothy wasn’t too much of a bother. I’ll be by tomorrow evening to pick him up if that’s alright.”
“Sure thing Ms. Swanson, he’s n-not going anywhere.”
Ms. Swanson giggles at this and the sound of her laughter is the sweetest nectar that ever did touch Hugo’s hairy ears. He finds himself drifting into a romantic daydream, back at the circus with Ava as a beautiful trapeze artist.
“Look at her go folks, so graceful, so acrobatic!”
Ava swings high above the crowd in her sequined teal leotard, swan-like and aqueous in her movements.
“Isn’t she lovely folks, isn’t she just heavenly? Let’s hear a big round of applause for the beautiful Ms. Ava Swanson, my love; my wife!”
Ava does a triple somersault dismount and lands in Ringmaster Hugo’s outstretched arms. She takes off his top hat, places it on her petite little head, and the two lovebirds kiss to a roaring crowd of hundreds. Hugo thinks to himself I hope this moment lasts forever, as he is jolted back to reality down in his taxidermy shop, feeling Pierre’s piercing eyes upon him.
“What?” the ring leader-turned taxidermist sheepishly asks of his mammoth, mounted brown bear.
“I remember when your mother was just a little cub, Pierre.” Hugo smiles. “She was so gorgeous, and mean! Always put up a heck of a fight, gave those wrestlers a run for their money. We used to have the best shows I tell you, the b-.”
An epiphany suddenly hits Hugo like a lightning bolt.
“Pierre, you magnificent genius!”
Hugo wheezes up the stairs to his apartment. Hobbling over to his closet, he clears a year’s worth of sloth and debris from an old English-oak chest. Blowing some dust off, he lifts the squeaky hinges. The minute its contents hits his eyes he’s blinded by the beauty. The black top hat, ruby red coat, black leather boots, emerald green blazer, everything sparkling, shining, and humming. Hugo dons his ringmaster attire for the first time in ages and it is no coincidence that he feels alive for the first time in ages.
She thinks I’m some twisted, old imbecile, but I’m Hugo the entertainer! I’ll impress her, oh yes!
Hugo sashays through his apartment with vigor, confidence. Adrenaline rushes through his veins as he reclaims the moxie of his youth. He floats with fervor back downstairs to his shop but when he looks inside he is stopped dead in his tracks.
“Such clutter! No, no this won’t do… I need to make room in here so we can dance to Brahms.”
The shop is dusty, dimly lit, and cluttered with various tools and animal hides, in addition to the myriad mounted animals. Hugo gathers his strength, hunches his back, and lifts one end of Pierre the Kodiak bear up and drags him out the back door. Next he removes the wild boars, the foxes, the antelope, and the moose heads. He takes out Laszlo the Lion, Sven the Seal, and even his chess-mate Ralph. The black buzzard is Hugo’s closest confidant, but even his vulture friend is not excluded from his master’s romantic delusions. Before long the shop is empty, except for Timothy the Egyptian Mau cat who is anxiously awaiting Ava’s arrival along with the ringmaster. At precisely 6:00pm Ava walks in the shop and Hugo is leaning on the counter with a come-hither stare on his face, trying to remember how to not look weird while smiling.
“Hello Hugo, good to see you. It looks so different in here, what happened to all your animals?”
“Gone Ms. Swanson” says Hugo. It’s just you, me, and Brahms, ballroom dancing in the moonlight. What do you say madam, may I have this dance?”
“Who…who are you?” inquires Ava of this new persona slyly standing in front of her.
“I am Hugo the entertainer! Did you know I used to be a ringmaster? We used to put on the best shows, the best!”
“Have you lost your mind!? Where are all your animals?” asks Ava, now feeling a tinge of fear.
“So what do you say my dear” Hugo asks obliviously.
“Here is your money” says Ava, dropping three crisp one-hundred dollar bills on the counter. Grabbing her stuffed cat, she confusedly walks out the door never to be heard from again by Hugo.
The former ringmaster removes his top hat, taking a long look at himself in the mirror. How sweet it was to live in the limelight just one more time, but he knows that this was the last circus trick that Hugo the Entertainer would ever pull off. The taxidermist starts for his apartment when a voice suddenly beckons from the rear of the building. It is a familiar voice that he is happy to hear. It’s Ralph challenging him to another game of chess and Hugo gladly accepts. Pierre’s got next.
-Scott Hommel
The Writings of SHHJR 