Two feet to my right is a toy Gizmo figure (from the movie Gremlins), standing on top of a model of Speed Racer’s car (the Mach 5), which itself sits next to a giant pile of unopened Star Wars Pez dispensers. On my left is a USB powered lightsaber, a toy Minotaur, a taco-shaped pouch for storing my USB thumb drives, and a boxed copy of Win, Lose, or Draw for the Nintendo Entertainment System. I have a room in my house dedicated to Star Wars toys, a bubble gum vending machine, a working payphone, and once bought a convertible dune buggy (as in, it came with no top and no windows) as my primary mode of transportation one winter.
For me to declare something as the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever purchased really says a lot.
This story begins with a girl named Christine. I don’t personally know Christine too well, but I know that she lives in Melbourne, Australia and that she listens to some of the same podcasts I listen to. One of the podcasts we both listen to (The Adventure Club Podcast) had Christine on as a guest, and I think it was during that episode that I learned Christine owns a skeleton named Boney T, which I think is just about the funniest thing I’ve ever heard. Occasionally Christine posts pictures of Boney T on her Twitter feed and I laugh every time I see one.
Boney T at Christmas
One thing I’ve learned in life is that with access to the internet and a credit card you can pretty much make anything happen. Literally. You can buy movie tickets. You can buy cars. For $20, you can get Lou Ferrigno to call you and wish you happy birthday. And, for what it’s worth, you can also find medical supply shops that will send you a skeleton.
Because I thought it would be interesting, I checked into buying a real skeleton. The first price I found was $5,000, which put a real quick end to that. Fortunately, medical supply shops sell realistic human skeletons that have been cast from real skeletons that sell for a fraction of the price. Turns out, with a coupon and on free shipping week, you can have a skeleton shipped to the middle of Oklahoma for about $250. It I wasn’t already on any government watch lists (which I’m pretty sure I already was), I definitely am now.
Yesterday I was talking on my phone with my ear buds in when Morgan delivered me the following hand-written note:
Yes, I am setting money aside for my children’s therapy fund.
Once inside, the cat took an immediate interest in the box.
One thing that scared me was the note on the side of the box: “some assembly required”. The box was obviously not 6′ long and so while it was obvious some assembly would be required, I was hoping that the skeleton didn’t come in 206 individual pieces.
Inside the big box was a smaller box. Inside the smaller box was this:
Well, at least that looked pre-assembled. With the head unboxed I began removing the rest of the skeleton. The base was the first thing I had to put together. The entire torso came assembled. All I really had to do was attach the arms and legs, which are held in place by cotter pins.
The skeleton came with a single piece of paper for instructions with no words on it and about five pictures. I guess they assume that since you already have a skeleton, you should be able to figure out how to assemble one.
Figuring out which leg was which threw us for a bit until Morgan remembered that knee caps go in the front. With that bit of information, putting everything else together was a breeze. The final piece of the puzzle was the skull, which slides down over a metal rail and is locked into place with a long metal spike. It should also be noted that the jaw is mounted with springs, so it should only take a modicum of work to turn this into a really creepy ventriloquist doll.
One of the things I think is funniest about Christine’s skeleton is his name, “Boney T”. I knew he needed a good punny name with some reference to skeleton or bones or Halloween. One look at those ribs and his name instantly came to me.
Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce Mick Rib.
Rob and Mick. ‘Til death do us part.