Unusual Hobbies

Sometimes, a hobby is so niche it's disturbing.

Day 5: “I myself am strange and unusual.” — Lydia Deetz, Beetlejuice (1988)

Clint Mortin had just gotten off work. Making people's loved ones beautiful for their "final departure" so mundane. He had only become a mortician to learn the skills he needed for his real passion project.

He drove home at a sedate speed. No need to draw attention to himself; not when he was so close to his goal. Clint whistled as he got the key to his 16 by 20 shed. It had been a real pain getting approval from the city to put it in. Still it was worth it. To see his dream come to life he needed the space.

Inside two of his test subjects blinked from their cages as he flipped on the lights. "Don't worry," Clint told them. "You'll be under anesthesia the entire time. Once you wake up, you'll do things you'd only dreamed of."

A chirp and a growl sounded as he used a vet-pole to administer the sedatives. Once the tiger and eagle were out, he moved them to the makeshift operating room.

All he needed was a little patience and the tools of his trade. Working alone was barely do-able. He severed and re-articulated the bodies. Sewing a wing there, some feet here and swapping the heads. No point in monitoring vitals; as soon as the animals were decapitated, things would've gotten too distracting.

Hours of work later, Clint looked at the bodies in satisfaction. This was the closest anyone had come to making an actual gryphon. What would he call the other chimera? A Tiagle or Eager? Neither sounded right; he'd work on names when he wrote his ground breaking research paper.

Putting his test subjects back in their cages, he administered a stimulant and waited. Instead of respiration increasing and the new animals awakening, there was a unified, rattling, sigh. His creations were dead!

"No, what did I do wrong?" Clint wailed. "I tried so hard!"

Word count: 314