So, this is my ice bucket. It is precious, and sings when you take the lid off to remind you to replace it, lest all the ice melts. We’ve had it for a few years now, and some of the notes come out a little off-key, but we don’t mind. It’s the little ice bucket that could. This year, folks, my dad decided to put it into a pair of mannequin legs.
Let me back up.
Back in October 2016, my grandmother wanted a mummy to put on her porch for Halloween. She goes all-out for every holiday, and Halloween is no exception. So she bought herself a mannequin online and asked my dad to help her transform it. My father, being the good son that he is, took on the challenge (a little too excitedly).
This is Molly and Dad. Well, Molly’s head, anyway. Dad was home alone this weekend since Mom was on a business trip…Things took a turn.
So eventually, after dyeing strips of cloth, pasting them onto Molly with Mod Podge, and replacing her head with a skeleton, Molly was complete. Gram put the photos on Facebook and thanked Dad for the awesome job.
Flash forward to the next week. My uncle went to the town dump and spotted a pair of mannequin legs (just the legs…) at the “good table”. That is an area where people place things like televisions and bicycles that aren’t broken, but no one wants to bother with selling them. What was the rational thing to do? Pick up the legs and give them to my dad!
I get home from school for Thanksgiving break and my dad asks me to help him saw off the top of the legs to make them flat. He wanted to put a piece of glass on the top and turn it into a tall cocktail table (it was a male mannequin. Cock-tail…get it? We thought it was funny).
I tried to warn Dad, but he didn’t realize it was hollow until it was too late. Looking down the mannequin’s wais,t I could see all the way down to the inside of his feet. So of course, how does my dad solve this disaster? He puts his utili-kilt (everyday work kilt) on it and STUFFS MY ADORABLE SINGING ICE BUCKET INTO THE OPENING OF THE MANNEQUIN LEGS. He even went so far as to make it ~anatomically correct~ but I will give you the blessing of not including a picture.
Either way, Thanksgiving was weird as hell with everyone scooping ice out of a pair of legs all day.
P.S. We named him Fergus