Playing With Dead Things: The Mummification of Beavis I, Part Five: Some Reassembly Required.

Beavis, being a rat, didn't reqire many bundles of natron-packed muslin before his body cavity was full.

Peek-a-boo.

It only took three or four before he was ready to be sewn back together.

The hole in Beav's side ended up much, much larger than I originally intended it to be, mostly because there were parts of him we could never have reached with our giant, meaty fingers without slicing him open all the way up to his armpit and splitting his ribcage. he was sewn back together in layers; first the ribcage, then the muscle and skin.

He's got a date. A date with DESTINY. And Destiny's a total slut, too. Better look good.

After his stomach and chest were sewn shut, the general wretchedness of Beavis' appearance was harder to ignore than usual. I found a toothbrush... the same toothbrush I use to make splatter-marks on paper with india ink when I'm at my most achingly artistic... and cleaned him up some. We also managed to close his eyes as much as they would allow themselves to be closed.

You'd hardly even know he didn't have a spleen!

And here's what he looked like when we were almost done. Washed, groomed, and ready for eternity.

The stitches are a bit sloppy, but that's okay, because they're not permanent. When he's finished with the natron, I'll have to pop Beav open again for anointment with the various and sundry unguents of immortality, and to remove the packets of muslin.

Four cans of salt, three boxes of baking soda.

Down into the natron he goes.

I'd be lying if I said I wasn't just a little bit worried about his brain, still locked in its little braincase. I didn't remove it because I couldn't think of a way to do so that didn't involve a nutcracker and superglue. Not exactly period. I'm not paranoid that it'll sabotage the whole mummfication, though; ancient Egyptians could be pretty half-assed themselves, sometimes not even bothering with getting both lungs out of a stiff, much less going through the hassle of jabbing out a brain. Beavis will probably turn to jerky just as easily with his brain as without.

Later, Beavis.

The box Beavis is lying in was originally used to store the bleached, meatless bones of the various animals my husband found lying between the slats of the local railroad tracks when he was young. Some of them are suspiciously large, and we tell ourselves that those must be cow bones. Lots of cows in the suburbs of Boston, you know. Cows that wander railroad tracks. Alone. And leave their pelvises behind.

Sure.