Who Shot John, GA
I live in the city. I like my urban lifestyle. I lock my doors even when I am home. I think about leaving them unlocked when I take a shower because I saw a really hot porn about a woman who had a naughty encounter with 34 sexy men when she left her door unlocked while showering. Still, I err on the side of caution. The chances are too great that all 34 of the men that would burst through my door wouldn't be hot.
Every once in awhile, I have reason to travel outside of the metro area. Last weekend, I was invited to a pool party requiring me to drive for an hour on unpaved roads to Who Shot John, GA, a sleepy country town. I stepped out of the car and breathed the fresh country air. I lit a cigarette and changed out of my heels into flip flops.
The picture above is what I almost stepped when I got out of the car. In my neighborhood, if you have something like this in your yard, the neighbors call the police. In Who Shot John, GA, an animal carcass in the yard is customary. In fact, it is expected. When you live in Who Shot John, you had better have a half decomposed animal carcass complete with flies or your neighbors will think that you think that you are better than them. No one wants to look like a city slicker when you live in the sticks.
I have no idea what kind of animal I photographed. I compared the teeth to the photos of my host's children and although I never saw the children, they appeared to have very different bite patterns. I wondered if it was the hostess because she was no where to be found. Her husband kept mentioning that she was passed out in bed, but still, I was suspicious. Clearly, it had been there for awhile and I decided not to ask too many questions, lest I be the next in line to rot on his property.
I also had no idea what kind of animal the skeletal foot I found near the pool belonged to. I saw the dog pick it up in her mouth. She trotted around with the bony metatarsals hanging from her chops. Every once in awhile on the evening news, there will be a story about a body that was discovered because a dog came trotting home with a femur in it's mouth. I like stories like this. The reporter always interviews the dog owner, who inevitably only has a smattering of teeth. Looking directly into the camera, the dog owner will be asked to speak about his reactions upon discovering a human femur in his dog's mouth. The man will say something like, "well, you just never expect something like this."
I thought about calling 911 when I saw the dog with the foot bones in her mouth. I wanted the local news to come out and interview me. I would relish the opportunity to stand in front of the camera and say, "well, when you live out here in Who Shot John, you sorta expect to find dead bodies and stuff." Then, I would probably plug my blog and give a shot out to all my peeps.
Gawd, I want to be on the evening news.