You're Pulling My Leg
by Linda Sharp

© 2007 Linda Sharp

OK, ok, ok. I'll write about it.

After receiving almost 100 emails the past week and a half regarding this story, it has become painfully obvious that I have been seriously remiss in not commenting on one of the more truly absurd legal tug o' wars currently taking place.

I guess I've just been waiting to see who truly has a "leg to stand on" in the case.
(Oh, that was bad.)

Yes, I am speaking of the inane battle over John Wood's amputated, embalmed leg - the limb he lost in a plane crash three years ago, but apparently could not bear to truly part company with. So he stored it in a smoker in a storage unit.

Um. Ye-ah.

Let's just dissect that portion for a sec, shall we?

Why would a person wish to hang onto such a macabre keepsake? I know it's his leg and all, but what mental gear slips in a person's head to make them say, "Hey doc, when you're finished hacking that thing off, will ya wrap it up? I'm taking the leftovers home."

And just how does one approach an embalmer to do the deed? "Um, hey there. I seen the bee-yoo-tee-ful job you did on my dead friend Zeke - he looked better dead than alive - think you could work some magic onnnnnnn................THIS?" (Insert image of John whipping out his quickly decaying limb from behind his back.)

Then, let's just say you did go to these lengths, kept it, had it embalmed, etc. Then what would you do with it? Build a trophy case? Mount it above the fireplace? Make a rack for it like a pool cue?

Nah. I'll just store it for now. That old smoker ought to be long enough. Yep - perfect fit, plus it'll smell like hickory next time I get it out to show the grandkids.
Moving on...

So the missing limb is entombed in a smoker, which is, in turn, entombed in a storage facility along with a bunch of other stuff John probably doesn't need anymore (concert ticket stubs, a length of garden hose, his left nut - I'm guessing here), but that he cannot bear to part with either.

But John fails to keep up with the rental fee. Bad John. Bad, bad...

So, per the contract, the storage facility auctioned off everything in it on September 25th.

Enter Shannon Whisnant, the lucky bidder, who incidentally did not have to pay an arm and a ...sorry, that was too easy...I'll stop..

Hmmm, so what crap did I score, he thinks? An old bicycle tire, a stack of newspapers? Oh look, a complete set of Britannica - now, that's rare. Usually they're at least missing "V". WHOA! Score! A smoker, just like the kind they sell at Walmart! Wonder what kind of shape it's in...I'll just open the lid here and ...
Holy jumpin Jesus on a waffle iron. WTF issat?!?!

Yes, Shannon. I imagine that would be most people's reaction to finding a severed limb on a bar-b-que.

According to police, Whisnant initially wanted nothing to do with the disgusting artifact, but upon deeper thought decided, Hey! People make money claiming the Virgin Mary is on their grilled cheese, how can I turn a buck from an honest-to-God, hair-still-in-the-follicles leg? And that smoker angle, well, that's got to up the ante a bit. Almost like a flame broiled Ripley's Believe It Or Not kinda thing!

And hey! Halloween is just around the corner! I'll charge admission to see this baby!

Whisnant told local media he was willing to go to court to keep the leg and planned to charge admission to see it -- $3 for adults and $1 for children. He even went so far as to ramble on about movie deals, book contracts, a museum and just plain ol' bragging rights...

Allow me to interject here - I have two legs of my own. And I don't have to pay myself to look at them. Heck. I live in Austin - it's October and still 90 degrees every damned day. I can just sit in the alcove at WalMart and catch all the free hairy leg I want till at least Thanksgiving.

As for a movie about the leg? Forrest Stump, maybe?
But I digress...

Of course upon hearing that his leg was now in someone else's hands, John stomped his good foot and demanded it back.
Shannon's reply? Finder's keepers. Actually, the real quote is, "I bought it, it's mine."

And so lawyers were engaged, legal actions threatened. Shannon offered a compromise.

"I told him I'd share custody of it," Whisnant said. "Kind of like young'uns."

Still not good enough. Wood grew it and he wanted it back so it could be cremated with him when he dies.
As of yesterday, police stepped up. Whisnant will not retain custody and Wood will get his memorbidilla back.
Moral of the story?

(And no - "Got Wood?" is not a moral, it's a tagline...although I'd love to see the ad in my next issue of People. Shannon standing there brandishing the leg, a little embalming fluid mustache above his lip...)

Crap - where was I? Ahhh yes, the moral...

Well, Aesop has many to choose from, but I think this one can best be summed up by paraphrasing the one from that classic The Goat and The Goat Herder: "Do not attempt to hide things which cannot be adequately hid in a smoker."

(Oh, and a little advice for Wood and Whisnant as they both revel in the past two weeks of being in the public eye? Remember the moral from The Mischievous Dog: "Notoriety is often mistaken for fame." Congratulations - You're now both internationally known, notorious, flaming asshats.)