As I walk up the short driveway I pass scatterings of horn and skin, a circular saw and a large plastic bin of jawbones marked ‘Inedible’.
Jerome Andres, the owner and proprietor, comes out to meet me, or to be more accurate I bump into him as he emerges carrying a moose-head from the workshop to the garage. He pulls the garage door a little wider and I can see quite grisly scenes of carnage in there.
He deposits his load in businesslike fashion and reappears. He’s a short, powerfully built man in jeans and a neat blue check shirt with long, greying sideburns protruding from a baseball cap, which he raises every now and then to wipe his brow, revealing a balding pate. He hitches up his trousers, smiles a little shyly and motions me to the door from which he first emerged. I feel faint unease and am glad that the sun’s shining and I’m not alone. In fact the door leads to a quite tasteful reception area. It is full of animals, but, unlike those in the garage, most of them are in one piece. There are a couple of heads in plastic bags nestling by the computer, but the room is a Noah’s Ark-like showpiece for taxidermy. A sign above the reception desk defines his business philosophy: ‘The Bitterness of Poor Quality remains long after the Sweetness of Low Price is Forgotten.’
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- Series: Hemingway Adventure
- Chapter: Belgrade, Montana
- Country/sea: USA
- Place: Belgrade, Montana
- Book page no: 240
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