Three

I love babies. No, I'm not maternal by any means. Put a live baby within 20 feet of me and I'm likely thinking of ways to asphyxiate it (pillow, strangulation with its bib, hands around mouth or throat...). I have no desire to procreate. Anyone who has read my blog before probably knows I mean a dead infant on my slab to be prepped for burial.

They are perfect. Once they are drained of all their annoying fluids and can no longer squirm and cry, babies are quite beautiful. Add a little blush and... breathtaking. When I prep a body under 8 months for an open casket I always leave the mouth a little open. They look more alive. If you lean in close enough you can smell a hint of formaldehyde. So much sweeter than babies breath. Why can't all children be that charming?

Today I let The Dark Creature and my calm side play together as one. After satisfying the darker side yesterday I am at peace. I didn't work at keeping a mask of normality, hell... humanity... on today, because it didn't seem all that important. Daniel called me a deranged sociopath because of it. Do I care? No. My dark side and I are one. Who the fuck cares what people think about my love for the job. My love for dead babies. My love of anything that sates my shadow friend.