Taxidermists: sick in the head?

When I think of Taxidermists, I like to imagine an old English country town in the dead of Winter. The towns folk are in the local tavern enjoying an ale in front of the roaring fire. They are having a hearty laugh at a fishing story John is telling of his recent luckless trip with Terry.. when out pops Old Bill from around the fireplace with a fox head on a stick. "Top of the mornin to ya towns folk" he ventriloquises in a high pitched fox voice. Old Bill is a strange man.


You see, Old Bill has been stuffing dead animals for around fifty of his fifty-seven years now. His crackpot macabre antics have become acceptable to these isolated people, like panto in the priesthood. Its not uncommon to see Old Bill walking down the street chattering away to two or three of the stuffed bunnies he keeps in his coat breast-pocket as he drags his stuffed cocker spaniel, Trixy, out for a walk.

What drives a man like Old Bill to taxidermy? Is it furry love, a cover up for interspecies zombie misadventures, or something more sinister like being "sick in the head"? Crazy in the coconut. Stubbie short of a six pack. Nuff-nuff in the noggins. NQR upstairs....

In Old Bills case, it could be said to be a combination of all three. Old Bill loves all creatures great and small. He loves them so much he is afraid they will leave him one day. Leave him all alone. But Old Bill found a way to make his furry loves a part of him forever.
What scientists are just uncovering now is that loneliness is a side effect of zombieism. Sure, they say "eat the brain, gain the knowledge", but no one mentions the loneliness that will be consumed and adopted by the soul of one who consumers another. It's a mirror effect. Like water in a bucket, or candy man in the mirror - there really can be only one.
This catch 22 brings us to the last of the unfortunate trifecta, head sickness.
Old Bill truly isn't the type of man you'd offer a green fairy cocktail or a spliff on a night you have your guard down...