Okay, yeah, so my name is Mortimer and
I work for this place called Addams Funeral Services, Inc. I know,
funny right, like Mortimer the Mortician? Yeah, I never heard that
joke before, so don't worry. You can call me Mort and if you call me
Mort the Mortician I'll call you “Future Client.”
My own little joke see. Anyway, so I'm
not really a mortician, I just drive the truck to pick up the bodies.
A big old, banged all to hell late 90's Chevy van that looks like
shit, but it gets the job done. We don't pull out those fancy hearses
for just anything you know. They're expensive as hell and they look
weird at a hospital anyway. The hospitals don't like it, that's for
sure. One time I had to drive the big Caddy 'cause the Chevy had a
busted radiator and man, did the people at the E.R. freaked out. They
said it gives people the wrong idea.
Like all the people at the hospital
aren't gonna die one day or the other anyway.
So today was just another kind of
boring day, or at least for me. People always think it's crazy or
weird to be around dead bodies all day but listen, you get used to
anything after a while. Acclimatization they say, if you wanna be
fancy. After four years of doing manual labor with heavy dead people
I bitch more about my back than the smell, that's for sure.
But today was a Tuesday and listen,
hardly anybody dies on a Tuesday. Weird I know, right? Like you'd
think people would be dying for me to pick 'em up on a Tuesday, but
no dice.
See what I did there?
You end up making a lot of puns working
around dead people all day. Makes the time go by and it keeps you
from going crazy. Nobody wants to be that guy who goes nutty and
starts eating the corpses or banging 'em or something. Never seen
that happen, mind you, but I know it does. Just makes sense it would
happen.
Now I'm gonna think about something
else so it ain't me it happens to.
So anyway, today was a Tuesday which
was good. I like Tuesdays since I get to sit around most of the day
and read. I help out with a lot of things around here, things you
don't need special degrees for at least, and sometimes ones you do,
but on Tuesdays there isn't that much to do. All the clean-up from
the weekend funerals are done and like I say, nobody dies on Tuesday.
But of course today, I'm getting really
into chapter 4,719 of the newest Stephen King book and the boss says
we got a pick up at the airport. Some army guy. Now, airport pick-ups
are nothing, just just drive out there, they help you load the box
and you come back. When they're shipping the bodies on the plains
they box them in these wooden crates that look like they come off of
Indiana Jones, just a body in a box and nothing fancy. The coffins
are too expensive to ship by air, so they keep it simple.
First time I saw the bag guys drop the
box off like it was just more luggage I was kind of shocked but like
I say, you get used to anything.
The weird thing about the army guys
though, is they gotta make a big deal outta taking 'em off the plane.
It's kind of cool and touching at first but well, you get the idea.
Basically when I get to the freight depot at the air port there's a
army guy there to meet me, usually a low officer or something and we
both get in the truck, get all searched and stuff, and we get
escorted out onto the ramp, right up to the airplane.
So what they do is they got these long
conveyor belts they move the bags from the plain on, and they drive
'em around like cars. So they put that up to the plane and the army
guy gets out and everyone lines up beside this beat to hell conveyor
belt and salutes the box as it rolls down. Then everyone looks away
while me and a couple of the bag throwers lug the thing in the truck.
Army boxes usually ain't bad though, since half the time they're all
but empty.
So anyway, I go pick up the box and
it's a heavy one. The officer at the gate has a lot more shiny shit
on his chest than they usually do but I hardly notice. Whatever, just
another day. Drop the body off, sign off my shift, grab some
McDonalds on the way home and eat, play some Madden and drink a beer.
Funny thing today though, I go to take
the trash out 'cause I can't fit any more beer bottles in the bin
with all those pizza boxes and I can't just set 'em next to the can
'cause I want to keep the place classy, ya know? So I take the bin
out back and I walk through the gate to where the big trash can in
the alley is, and I prop it open to dump the trash in.
But when I open it I look in just out
of curiosity because weird shit shows up in our trash all the time. I
live in a sketchy part of town and you never know what you're gonna
find. This time it's a pair of boots. Nice ones too, they're the ones
with that little white cross in a red square, whatever brand that is,
and they look pretty new so I pull one out. Looks pretty close to my
size too.
So I pull off my slipper and go to try
the boot on but I gotta un-tie it first. Who throws out a pair of
boots all laced up? When I go to put my foot inside though, they're
something in there. Looks like a foot. So anyway, I pull it out and
it's a little sticky but sure enough, the boot fits like a charm!
Just my size.
I pull the other one out and sure
enough, it matches. Got a foot inside too, damn it, but that one's
not so sticky so it's okay. I throw it in the bin and dump the trash
and head back to play some more Madden. I'm pretty proud of my new
foot gear, that and I still got at least a six pack of Natty Light in
the fridge, so it's a good day after all.
So like I say, you get used to things
after a while. I'm half way through another beer before I realize
boots don't usually come with severed feet in them and that's when I
lose my shit.
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