upstairsfromreality (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
upstairsfromreality) wrote2023-07-31 10:32 am
upstairsfromreality) wrote2023-07-31 10:32 am
Entry tags:
In the Way of Business
I'm catching up. This is Day 19, prompt
Truth is Stranger. Use a strange fact in your work today.
Fact: You actually can use animal brains to tan leather, but I'm not sure about reptile leather.
https://www.leather-dictionary.com/index.php/Brain_tanning
Related work by Gardnerhill (Read the whole series! It's fabulous).
https://archiveofourown.org/works/19841698
I never much liked the snakeskins. They come with the job for a boot and saddle maker in a nowhere Western town like this, of course, but that didn't mean I had to like them. Every few weeks some cowboy sumbitch would come in with the skin of a rattler he had to shoot - usually cause they'd got drunk and done something to rile it up, but they didn't say that part. Most times those skins was stinking, since the cowboys didn't have enough brains to skin them proper, let alone extra to use for tanning. I could no more make a pair of boots out of those half-rotten skins than I could fly, but it didn't help to tell them that. I'd just use some snake leather I bought from a regular supplier up in Fort Worth, and let the fool cowpoke think the extra cost was part of working with it.
The snake skin Doc brought in wasn't anything like that, of course. He'd scraped it real careful with one of his scalpels that he was about to throw out anyway. Tanned it up nice, too, with some alum from his medical supplies. It gave me the willies all the same.
"So, Doc," I asked, "is that from, you know, the snake?" I didn't need to say which one. When a man picks a rattler up with his bare hands and throws it at a murdering sumbitch, I imagine it tends to stick in his mind a bit.
"Yep," said Doc. He always was a man of few words. "I thought I'd get some boots from it, in case folks need reminding."
I didn't think anybody was likely to need reminding anytime soon. It'd be a while before I forgot, at least.
"You sure you want boots?" I asked, "She'd make a beautiful belt, and cheaper, too." I didn't say a belt would make up quicker and get the thing out of my shop sooner.
"Naw," drawled Doc, "It's gotta be boots. A man who looks at my belt sees my gun. He don't need reminding. A man who looks all the way down to my toes is sizing me up. He might have forgot."
Well, I made those boots up for Doc and they were mighty pretty. But I was glad to get 'em outta the shop when he paid and picked them up. I never have liked the snakeskins.
Truth is Stranger. Use a strange fact in your work today.
Fact: You actually can use animal brains to tan leather, but I'm not sure about reptile leather.
https://www.leather-dictionary.com/index.php/Brain_tanning
Related work by Gardnerhill (Read the whole series! It's fabulous).
https://archiveofourown.org/works/19841698
I never much liked the snakeskins. They come with the job for a boot and saddle maker in a nowhere Western town like this, of course, but that didn't mean I had to like them. Every few weeks some cowboy sumbitch would come in with the skin of a rattler he had to shoot - usually cause they'd got drunk and done something to rile it up, but they didn't say that part. Most times those skins was stinking, since the cowboys didn't have enough brains to skin them proper, let alone extra to use for tanning. I could no more make a pair of boots out of those half-rotten skins than I could fly, but it didn't help to tell them that. I'd just use some snake leather I bought from a regular supplier up in Fort Worth, and let the fool cowpoke think the extra cost was part of working with it.
The snake skin Doc brought in wasn't anything like that, of course. He'd scraped it real careful with one of his scalpels that he was about to throw out anyway. Tanned it up nice, too, with some alum from his medical supplies. It gave me the willies all the same.
"So, Doc," I asked, "is that from, you know, the snake?" I didn't need to say which one. When a man picks a rattler up with his bare hands and throws it at a murdering sumbitch, I imagine it tends to stick in his mind a bit.
"Yep," said Doc. He always was a man of few words. "I thought I'd get some boots from it, in case folks need reminding."
I didn't think anybody was likely to need reminding anytime soon. It'd be a while before I forgot, at least.
"You sure you want boots?" I asked, "She'd make a beautiful belt, and cheaper, too." I didn't say a belt would make up quicker and get the thing out of my shop sooner.
"Naw," drawled Doc, "It's gotta be boots. A man who looks at my belt sees my gun. He don't need reminding. A man who looks all the way down to my toes is sizing me up. He might have forgot."
Well, I made those boots up for Doc and they were mighty pretty. But I was glad to get 'em outta the shop when he paid and picked them up. I never have liked the snakeskins.