I don’t go to Goodwill often, but when I do, I come home with some weird shit. Case in point, yesterday afternoon, I came up empty at the local Goodwill, but as I was walking to my car, I see this lady pulling a giant steer horn out of her trunk (that sounds bad, I know, but I’m just reporting here). Thinking that was possibly the coolest thing I had ever seen, I say, “You can’t possibly be getting rid of those!” “Yep, you want ’em.” “Hell yeah, I want them!”
(I felt a little guilty about stealing these out from under Goodwill’s nose, but technically, they never made it to the donation pile. Plus, the last time I bought a DVD there, the case was empty, so let’s just call it square.)
These horns ooze testosterone, ‘merica, and dusty old leather — I’m not worthy — now, what am I going to do with these manly monstrosities? They’re almost four feet long and I have absolutely nowhere to hang them. I was going to strap them to the hood of the minivan, Boss Hogg-style, but the wife was on to me the second I asked her where the duct tape was. (She has no imagination.)
I’m always baffled by the oddball items that show up in thrift stores and yard sales. I live in Virginia, and there’s no way these were bought within a thousand miles of here. The stories these horns could tell. I think I need to build a bar around these horns — a bar with swinging saloon doors and a giant painting of a reclining naked woman. And a Faro table. yeah. What the hell is Faro anyway?
Or maybe I’ll make an epic viking helmet. Now where’s that duct tape?