Sunday morning, I decided to give my apartment a thorough and much-needed cleaning. My roommate Ern suggested that we dump out the keg bucket, which had been sitting outside on the porch since our Halloween party. It had filled up with rain water and turned a murky, grey color. Because it was so heavy, we each grabbed a handle and began to lift it. At the first jostle, the dirty water sloshed a bit, and suddenly, floating up from the darkness of the water, rose a dead squirrel.
I was completely unprepared for this bloated, furry surprise, and promptly screamed like a B movie actress in her first horror film. The squirrel was big, dead, bloated, and disgusting, and, maybe I've had an uneventful life thus far, but I felt true terror for the first time. Once Ern caught a glimpse of what I was screaming about, we dropped the bucket, ran back inside, and locked the door. After our heart rates returned to normal, we came up with a plan for disposing the body. We waited until nighttime, and under cover of darkness, we put on our Haz Mat outfits (pictured) and got rid of the squirrel. Undetected, we crept through the night carrying the bucket topped with a trash bag (to prevent splashing) until we found a suitable resting place for the ill-fated arboreal rodent. Hey, I'm sure it wasn't the first time someone got rid of a body in Southie.