MS. GRAVEYARD DIRT

A gentle fucking warning: #04’s gearin’ up to be transferred to a watery bed, which means it’s time to start telling his story.

While my entries regarding rescuing roadkill aren’t gratuitously gory, they do depict raw anatomy in non-negotiable - but very educational! - terms. If you’re new to Mother Dirty’s magic you might’ve not encountered this before, so I want to take a second to assure you guys that I do what I do out of the upmost love and respect; these animals are my sacred responsibility, and I take my appointed duty very seriously. (<- That doesn’t mean I don’t have fun or don’t find humour in things like necro-boners or afterlife farts, but it does mean that I can become a raging fucking cunt if you deliberately ignore my one and only request.)

I understand this shit ain’t for everyone, which is why I’m handing out this warning in advance. If your interest’s been piqued and you want to learn more about my unorthodox spiritual duty you can find years worth of stories at Graveyard Dirt (see: Asphalt & Entrails), and pages worth of pictures over at my Flickr photostream (see: Roadkill). If badgers are your thing, you also might enjoy last year’s badger-heavy journal entry Reduce, Reuse, Recycle.

graveyarddirt:

Resting in Peace, by Ms. Graveyard Dirt

After a long rest, a fresh bowl of cold water and a lovingly made sandwich (this time an organic peanut butter, honey and raisin on toasted gluten-free seeded bread) most of my rescued roadkill usually look as peaceful as badger #04.

DISCLAIMER: If you decide to re/blog any of my roadkill pictures please keep all of the relevant information (i.e., name, title, and Flickr link) with the image. (Why?)