The human female is down in the basement, checking on the stock of sharks and cats while the whole Dead Shark Shuffle is fresh in her tiny mind. I am always up for a visit to the Room of Dead Things. Sigyn, not so much.
It really is like an educational mausoleum down here. Shelves and shelves of bags and boxes of defunct creatures, waiting their turn to suffer at the hands of scalpel-happy undergraduates.
It’s all fairly well-organized, with the various sections clearly marked.
Kidneys, kidneys, and more kidneys. There are also shelves of hearts. And eyeballs.
Thor’s bitty ball-peen! Sheep brains are SMALL. I had no idea. I suppose it doesn’t require a lot of gray matter to grow wool and fall into ditches.
Oooh! Snake! Ah, my lovely, I could wish that you were still alive and slithering sweetly about your business of terrorizing the mice and scaring people.
Oh, now this is interesting! This shelf has some spare skeletons!
Rat on the left and lizard on the right. Hmm. I shall have to look into an animation spell or two, because those fellows would be quite effective if they were scuttling about the halls or climbing up on desks to sit by coffee cups and computer mice.
Come to think of it, the preserved animals would be pretty great to have running around as well. I can see it now—skinned cats, litters of piglets, and the odd pigeon lurching from room to room and spreading the good news about formalin-free processing and colorful latex injections.
My To Do list gets longer every day…