My family has tolerated my insane fears for as long as I’ve been afraid of things. Random yet paralyzing fears, like my fear of light fixture stores and the ceiling fan aisle of Home Depot. I have a couple of obvious fears, like dolls and clowns, because who doesn’t? And for the record, I’m not afraid of clowns, I’m afraid of people who want to dress like clowns. You know their brain stems don’t go all the way down.
But thanks to Jenny Lawson, aka @TheBloggess, an otherwise extraordinarily funny woman with a host of famous friends like Will Wheaton and Nathan Fillon, I’m afraid of roadkill. More to the point, I’m afraid that someone is going to scrape up some roadkill, preserve it with an unholy expression on its satanic little face, and slap a cutsie hat on its head before standing it up on my doorstep.
I realize the likelihood of someone actually mailing me a dead animal is not that awesome, but apparently it happens to her all the time. It’s really sad, because she’s gotten so used to it that she actually gets excited when a mystery box appears on her porch. She gets all giddy wondering what the hell kind of dead animal might be in the box. And is it wearing pants.
I get it that Jenny lives in Texas and therefore dead animals might just be part of her decorating theme, but I live in Alabama. We’re only seven hours and eight IQ points away from Texas. We hang deer heads in our living rooms. I can’t handle it. I need a ceiling fan to ward off the evil spirits coming out of Bambi’s glassy eyes or maybe a clown in full Ringling Brothers regalia to stand guard at the door. It can’t be as scary as a possessed raccoon staring at me out from under the brim of its straw hat.