Gene Hemingway had been an avid game hunter for over 50 years but he was slowing down more these days. The "subtle" clues of his obsession were everywhere. There were several stacks of hunting magazines piled high on the table and many occupied gunracks of differing caliber hooked to the walls. There were heads and bodies of fish, fowl and wild beast spanning the entire interior of his home's dementia. Outside, statues of cement-maned lions guarded the front door's walkway in. The outgoing flag on his mailbox was a marlin leaping skyward.
Inside Gene's home many figures adorned his foyers and embellished his memories. The immortalized resided there, many caught in strange lifeless poses. Unnatural looks frozen on their face that seemingly expressed thoughts they never intended. The home was a taxidermist's crowning glory but Gene had been a sales rep before retirement.
The den itself was the main showing room for Gene's finest game trophies. Bamboo paneling covered every inch of the floor, walls and ceiling and noises echoed strangely there giving it an otherworldly feel. There were no windows so these stuffed facsimiles hadn't seen the light of day since their last one. There was an odd combination of general mustiness in the room that Gene almost could take apart and discern piece by piece. A wafting aroma that stirred to memory the grainy black and white film of those specific moments.
In the past, one entering the den without previous knowledge of its contents often got the heebee jeebees. As you first walked into this room, which was something akin to a small ampitheater, you couldn't help but be overwhelmed. Immediately to the left was the greeting grizzly bear from Kamchatka. Gene had to smuggle the monster out of its country with his dad and the guide in that sputtering biplane after they shot it with the Savage 300 elephant gun. It was all they could do to move it. That was his first big kill. He was just 10 then.
Across the sprawling room over next to the fireplace was the Polar bear he brought down with one shot to the head back in 1956 in the annual Jack London Aleutian Island Shoot-out. This Polar Bear was an absolute one-of-a-kind from the old days before the bear population had been so decimated, when they had lived much longer and grew much bigger. Big bears like these were once in high demand. The alien stood, man-like on hind legs almost 14 feet erect with an evident stoop so as not to scrape its head against the vaulted ceiling. Its long arms extended outward, one a little higher than the other in a come-hither Frankenstein pose. It onyx black claws splayed wide apart motionless in high contast to the beast's yellowed white fur.
Around the room the feast for the eyes continued in stark, living color unimpeded by the large shadows cast by the looming figures below. High on the wall over the fireplace sat the great bust and antlers of a proud five point stag. Its striated muscular chest too abruptly abbreviated by the bamboo wall it looked out from. Its shiny black marbled eyes seemed to follow across the room. No red light reflected out of them though. Right below the deer was the giant swordfish its bill sharp and elongated-- ready to flail. Its muscular sides bunched up and its mother of pearl colored back semi-coiled for that imaginary leap. It wore a silent sneer. Over to the right of that was the flying fish that nearly choked Maury that one afternoon right after Gene told him that funny joke. Its fish head still marred with barely visible human teeth scrapes. The memory of the end of that tail sticking out of Maury's mouth... The desperate look on both of their faces.
Further into the room the diversity of life was astounding. It was as if Gene had stood on the bow of Noah's ark and picked off one of everything aboard. Heads hung down from the ceiling--bolted in with gossamer strands. Wild boars with long elliptical brightly brushed tusks were assembled in a triangle in a remote corner overlooking the door. Behind the door in a much smaller room lay the chemical facilities where Gene pursued his calling.
Later that day Gene found out he was going to go on another deep sea excursion in about a week. He went to the fish and tackle shop to get some last minute items when he saw the Billy Bass talking fish novelty. He immediately fell in love with the plaque mounted fish that sung and spoke while magically moving its head and tail. Gene had a strange urge to hear some of Billy's 20 catchy little jingles. Gene passed his hand past its motion sensor.
"What are you looking at?" it said.
Gene broke up with a snicker at this. It looked so lifelike and comical. The Billy Bass had a happy snappy kind of look on its rubbery vinyl-like face that was irresistible. Gene had to have it. He would tack it up next to the flying fish he decided. When Gene returned home that night he set the Billy Bass up on the wall and listened to its stock phrases over and over till he had knew them all by heart. This amused him to no end. He had dreamed of his other stuffed acquisitions talking to him many times before and they were never quite so cheerful.
When he awoke in the morning he immediately went to inspect his handiwork from the night before. The Billy Bass was there on the wall where he left it but a scowl had replaced the happy look that had been on its face.
Gene passed his hand in front of it.
"I'm just here for the Halibut." The bass said.
Gene seemed to feel eyes looking down on him. He looked around the room at its stuffed inhabitants with more than a hint of suspicion. A chill ran down his back as he quickly turned left towards the towering polar bear then right towards the greeting grizzly. Gene always had his back turned to one or the other with the way they were situated. To heavy to move. Absolutely nothing happened and a stillness lingered in the air.
Again Gene passed his hand in front of Billy Bass
"You can tune a piano but you can't tuna fish," Billy imparted.
Gene inspected his new purchase with a little more scrutiny. He put his own eyeball to the fishes mouth to try to see its inner workings. The sea replica burped loudly.
"Excuse me. I must have eaten a bad worm"
Gene laughed to himself momentarily letting his guard down.
"Meat is Murder! Eat Tofu." Billy Bass said suddenly and clamped down on Genes prying eye. Gene's thrashed about wildly beneath underneath the Billy Bass onslaught. Then, suddenly and without warning the great swordfish from above finished that imaginary leap and with a great motion of its head fell towards the earth. Gene looked up for a second and, too late, began to raise his hands in a defensive posture. In a second it was over. Slowly the other inhabitants of the room began to stir.
"Gosh I'm glad thats over I couldn't hold my arms up like this much longer! said the polar bear. The Kamchatka grizzly slowly moved towards the lone man's body on the floor and picked up something that had rolled away.
5 Days later...
Marty had been calling Gene for a couple of days with no answer. That wasn't like Gene at all so he thought he better check up on him. The door had been left wide open. There was an abundance of fur and hair outside and all along the walkway in. Marty walked into the home cautiously as if whatever had caused the mess might still be here. When Marty entered the home he could scarcely believe his eyes. All the stuffed animals were gone but nothing else had been touched. Marty walked around through the short narrow corridor leading to the den.
When he got in there his jaw dropped to the ground. There on the wall was something undetermined. Closer he came to the thing unshadowed. It was Gene! Gene's head mounted to the Billy Bass plaque. Marty walked closer to the head to get a better look, still not quite believing. The motion sensor on the plaque activated.
"Haven't you heard of catch and release?" said Gene's lifeless head.
Bio: "I live in Naples Florida. My Favorite things are writing, weightlifting and running. I am 33 and was born in Kingsport, Tennessee. I graduated from Barron Collier High School. I received an A.A in Journalism from Hillsborough Community College. I Received my B.A in English from the University of South Florida in 1999."
E-mail: Democraft1967@aol.com
URL: http://hometown.aol.com/democrat1967/myhomepage/resume.html
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