The Coroner


1. The Coroner

The Coroner felt the wind bubbling in his throut. Of course, there was a distinct possibility that it was food and stomach acid preparing for their exit. But he refused to entertain any such notion. Like most first impressions, this one was at the mercy of his digestive system. A burp would show her that he wasn't afraid of a little mess, which he wasn't. But vomiting would give her the impression that he was a virgin to such actions, which he was. The Woman gave the man a hundred dollar bill drawn on a napkin. The Coroner needed a napkin, having decided after all that it was flem in his throut, and he accepted the deal. "You can only have this body," said The Coroner. "It's too mangled to tell if it was tampered with. All the other bodies are whole, if mess with them they'll know, I'll lose my job, and you'll lose me. Got it?" She stared blankly at him, and he having said all he needed to gave her the Morgue key.

"Hey, we met at Walter's wedding, right?" "Yes, we did." "What is it you do, again?" "Oh, I'm a coroner." Thus endeth most conversations he had. No one appreciated him or his work. They stayed willfully ignorant of all the bodies can tell us after death. He found many people to be more interesting as cadavers than when they breathed. He thought of The Woman back at the morgue. She made a habit of coming everyday. He thought of how she alone appreciated the dead, and he realized she was perfect for him. He did what anyone would do if they were in love with a necropheliac.


The End

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