Patriarchal Bond

I have to admire my father. He was a sick twisted son of a bitch, but taught me most of what I know about manipulating, lying, relationships and staying out of legal hot water.

He and I were cut from the same cloth. He had the same demons I do. He called it his muse, I call it my dark creature. Regardless of what we call it, the same driving force is there. We had many adventures together that most people would cringe at or be revolted by, but they were defining moments of my life.

There is something deeply sensual that happens when two peoples muses dance together. The work they create can be anything from disturbing to something beautiful, but is always unforgettable.

Resident Drunk

People in my line of work are regarded as a necessary evil, but most people don't want to step foot into the building. Most people don't understand why anyone would want to be a funeral director. I've met a few morticians who don't want to do their job. These people tend to be the resident drunks and practically every home has one.

I am this person. I hate dealing with the living aspect of my job. People come in at one of the most emotional times in their lives. I have never known how to handle this. I don't understand their grief and frankly it makes me uncomfortable. I know in theory you show compassion by doing your job professionally and doing it well. However, I can't do that when dealing with family.

Some of us are better suited to be a buffer between the family and the harsh realities of putrification and decomposition. The families want a clean and meaningful memory, and this I can give them. I will remove maggots out of eye sockets, deal with skin slippage, and turn the dead into a work of art with a smile on my face. But pass the whiskey if you put me in a room with the living.

Son, I Love You. Please Die.

What do I find when I get to work today? No bodies. Not one. No decaying goodness for me to practice my deranged art on, just an appointment to preplan a funeral. I slept an hour before going into work today, making me even crankier than usual. That's saying something, since I am usually quite cranky when dealing with the living.

Rarely do I get a young healthy person coming in to plan what kind of funeral they want. Typically my preplans are elderly, some are younger but have an illness that will probably kill them. This is the demographic I expect when I have an appointment. I had a cup of coffee and brooded while waiting for Mr. Doe to show up.

One minute after his appointment was supposed to start (yes, I was irritated with him being late) a young twenty something walks in with a black eye, staples across his forehead, and his arm in a sling. Instantly I am intrigued. We make our introductions before getting started.

Him: I wrapped my car around a tree and want to plan my funeral.
Me: Well, I can help you with that, but it looks like you survived it.
Him: *laughs*

I showed him some options in the price range he was inquiring about. He chose cremation, with a tree planting ceremony on his family farm.

Him: If I die before my mom does, don't let her bury me.
Me: As long as our paperwork is in order, your wishes will be carried out.
Him: You don't know my ma. She will come in here and beat you with a shovel to get my body so she can bury me.
Me: I'm impervious to shovels.

Turns out the reason he came in to plan his funeral was because he and his mother had a huge argument in the hospital as to what she would have done if he died. She wanted a large catholic funeral and already had the clothes picked for him to wear.

This struck me as a little strange. The guy spent a few hours in the ER before getting sent home, so it wasn't like she had days to mull over her plans while he was in the ICU. Wouldn't most parents be glad their child was alive, or scold them for almost killing himself and totaling the car, instead of worrying about a funeral?

Angel Lust

Many, many, many years ago, when I was an intern, I worked for a lovely gay necrophile. From here on out I'll call him Kevin. I learned recently that he has passed on, so I wanted to honour him by sharing my favourite story from the time we spent together.

I was still wet behind the ears in the world of mortuary science when I got the call to pick up the body of a gentleman in his mid 20's who was HIV positive and known to live the PnP lifestyle. In a panic after getting his HIV diagnosis, he hanged himself and wasn't found for several days.

When Kevin and I arrived to this gentleman's house, the smell was overpowering. The body was infested with maggots and wasn't in very good shape. I turned the corner into the kitchen and there he was. Naked, maggots crawling out of his eyes, and fully erect.

I couldn't help but bust out laughing. This was my first week working for Kevin, so I should have been trying to act professional, but the image had to be laughed at. It wasn't that he wasn't well endowed, quite the opposite in fact. The decomposition process had been very generous to that region. Kevin walked in moments later, asking me why I was laughing, then started laughing himself.

The coroner cut him down and we transported him back to the mortuary. I noticed Kevins own member growing as he was working on that region of the body. Later we went out for drinks, as we did most nights. Usually our conversation stayed pretty tame, but that night we had an in depth conversation about corpses with angel lust. He's one one the few people I've ever really liked, and I believe the world was better with him in it.

Zombies Versus Vampires

Vampires (glittery ones not withstanding) are thought to be evil by nature. They are damned, if one believes in that sort of thing. Zombies are not typically thought to be evil by nature, but instead are seen as doing evil things. Both are driven by an undying need to eat. Vampires need blood, zombies need brains. There is no room for time dedicated to watching a tractor pull or taking a long leisurely walk down the beach just to watch the waves.

If there was an epic battle and all that was left were tyrannosaurus rexs, zombies and vampires, the T-rex would win out... but since they already had their turn on earth, they aren't factored into my equation and I'm not sure why I'm bringing them up.

Okay, if there was an epic battle and all that was left were zombies and vampires, both would be pretty screwed. I figure the zombies would end up winning. And for a pretty good reason. (I think.) Vampires would be desperate to eat and end up trying to feed on the zombies, leaving them open for attack. Zombies don't need their blood, but vampires need their brains.

This is not taking into account that they may infect each other and there could be a super race of vampire zombies...

(No, this post didn't go anywhere. Yes, I've had too much to drink... thank you for noticing.)

No, I Don't Have A Cat

Yesterday I was accused of becoming attached to animals. I've been thinking about this and trying to see why someone would believe that. Yes, I have animals. Quite a few of them. I have reptiles, rodents, a dog and several horses. But when I look at them I don't really see them as something I need.

I have reptiles because I enjoy watching them kill their prey. And I enjoy killing their prey even more. I started off with a breeding pair of corn snakes and have since moved on to much larger varieties. All but one of my snakes are used for breeding purposes and their offspring are sold at reptile shows. So snakes are for cash.

The rodents are self explanatory. Snakes and monitors have to eat. I have guineas and mice. I figure since I am breeding them I might as well play with their genetics and come up with interesting colours. So rodents are for food and hobby.

There is a dog in my house. He is a well behaved, quiet and clean French Bulldog. He gives me my space, I give him his. I don't really see him as an animal, more as furniture. So the dog doesn't count.

I grew up with horses. My first job was riding other peoples horses at shows. Today, thirty percent of my income comes from riding jumpers. I have a few old mares I keep as broodmares. I have a couple horses on the race track. I have my filly who is probably already sold. And I have Penny... my trail horse.

All of the horses except for her are dollar signs on hooves. She is a well trained dead head horse who goes where I point and stops when I say whoa. She is irreplaceable. Is that attachment? How do you feel about your pets?

Reasons To Be In A Relationship

I am an efficient person. Affection and love are foreign concepts in my mind. When others express those emotions to me I feel uncomfortable, and a little nauseous. So why do I bother getting in relationships? Well, there are a few reasons.

First of all I love sex. Primal, dominating, fighting, gory sex. If the sex is good I can stay with someone for quite awhile. That is if they're willing to stay with me. Most men don't understand that women can be sexual sadists, and I am not referring to fuzzy handcuffs and spankings. I need rope, duct tape and a stun gun. As far as I am concerned if he isn't writhing in pain, it isn't fun for me.

Social standing is a big one for me. Not so much being a socialite within the community, more of people who can get me where I want to go. This usually relates to my job. If I want to work an autopsy that interests me in the next county, I need a way to have an in. Or if there is a horse I want to ride that isn't available to try, I need someone to make a few calls. I have a few exes on speed dial for just that reason.

The only other reason I've ever dated anyone is for their wallets. Yes, I'm that shallow. New cars, island vacations, new wardrobe. I'll take it all. I'll smile and act nice at your company and family functions until you are no longer useful for me. Or I'm simply bored with you. And no, I don't see a problem with this.

But occasionally I wonder, why do people stay in relationships? Obviously I'm not cut out for them, but surely others are. Then I see people who seemingly hate each other yet go home together. I just don't understand.

The Other Woman

When a man dies, occasionally there is a string of women left to mourn him. Ex-girlfriends who haven't let go. A wife or fiance. His mistress. All whom usually sit civilly looking at his dead body and mourn in silence. Very rarely does anyone make a scene. I remember the first ex-boyfriend I planted. It had been nearly three years since the last time we talked when I got the call to pick him up from the morgue. He had done his pre-planning with me while we were together, and his fiance followed through with his plans.

When I started working on him, it hit me that nothing had changed. He still looked the same as he had, and he was still being unpredictable, dying of a brain aneurysm in the middle of the night. I couldn't help but wonder if he also still had a mistress tucked away somewhere. After talking to his fiance, I gathered that she had no idea we had a past together, which was fine by me. That could complicate things and I am a fan of everything running smoothly. I dressed him in the suit he specified in his pre-plans, which coincidentally, was the suit I met him in four years prior.

The viewing was going well until I saw a familiar face walk in. His 'other woman' while we had been together. She walked over to me while I was handing out a prayer card to the a gentleman sitting next the fiance of the stiff. For some reason she found it dreadfully important to ask if I was still with him when he died and how could I steal him away from her (I guess I was the other woman...) and continued to make a big scene. The, for lack of a better word, widow starts becoming hysterical. Asking if I was the one he was cheating on her with.

At this point I have lost total control of the viewing. I had two women who still loved the deceased yelling at me and each other. Family members trying to get in the middle of it. And a confused colleague who walked up from the preparation room. He was able to calm things down and take my place allowing me to finish the body he was working on. Since then, I have avoided working viewings... they can get a little rough.