The last few days I have spent my time inventorying, cleaning and playing catch-up with my paperwork. There's a shocker. I would rather rebuild a whole body than do one days worth of paperwork. I hate it. Fuck, retarded monkeys could do it. Alas, the mortuary is being inspected tomorrow, so it had to be done.
Late last night I received a call that I had a morning project. Not a lot of reconstruction, just a few facial and hand lacerations, but my coworkers have gotten lazy. Hell, I can't think of the last time any of them have stepped in and done any sort of reconstruct. Okay, maybe it isn't them being lazy, it's me being greedy.
On this balmy 96 degree day I was prepping a rapidly decomposing body with skin slippage. Doesn't sound that bad, right? But once again the air conditioner is acting up. No, not acting up... dead. Like everything else there, as the smell kept reminding me. Usually the air is cool enough, moves enough, and is dry enough to keep the taste of rotting flesh out of your mouth. Hot, humid and stale air doesn't give much relief.
However, I would have worked on ten bodies today before doing another minute of paperwork. That type of hate takes dedication.
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