Street Scrape

OK, this is a little gross, but it’s also kind of funny. Don’t look if you’re extremely squeamish.

Still with me? Great, but don’t say I didn’t warn you. I’ll shut up now and let the pictures do the talking. Click to enlarge if you dare.

Roadkill

B Cleans Up

Scooping the Carcass

Body Bag

The Stain Remains the Same

Thanks to DJ for manning the camera!

11 thoughts on “Street Scrape”

  1. Further thoughts: This struck me as funny because we all laughed at the time. But why? I don’t think it’s a “guy thing” (as a friend suggested) because there were some females there who seemed just as amused. I thought maybe some humor derives from the fact that it’s someone else’s adversity, so you might laugh because it’s me rather than you scraping that dead rat off the street — laughter borne of relief. But then why did I think it was funny? Maybe just a coping mechanism to deal with something gross? I don’t know.

  2. Maybe the amusement is just sumblimated glee that one more rat has left the world? I think that would make everybody happy, as mean as it may sound. People would have a different reaction if it were something cute, or maybe even neutral, laying in the road.

  3. Here’s to you, B! Score one for the good guys.

    One of my cats was playing with a tiny rodent the other day–I think it was a kangaroo rat or something. Stupid domesticated animal had no idea what to do with it. I watched her play with it for a few minutes and then I had to step in before it got away. I grabbed a brick and finished the job. That’s the only rat I’ve seen around my place. I didn’t post pictures because I knew my Darling Wife and Precious Daughter would have a freak fit if they knew about it. They just adore anything small and fuzzy–whether it carries plague or not does not seem to matter.

    Our motto should be, “Building a better New Orleans, one dead rat at a time!”

    Peace,

    Tim

  4. jeez man the same exact thing happened to me yesterday. the only diff. was i used a flat shovel instead of a spade. shit i hope i dont cut my bird finger. i need it now that i’m driving to kenner every day for work.

    the aftershock for me was i sat in my backyard for an hour watching the squrills in the pecan tree trying to figure out why i wasnt wishing them death.

    how in the hell can some fur on your tail make you o.k.?

    i have pondered this my entire city life and cant come up with an answer.

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