I was out walking the Beast when he decided to have the mother of all shits; it was a double bagger. As I looked up, I caught sight of a shiny black Suburban pull into the funeral home across the road.
Two people got out and opened the back doors. Assuming they were dropping the casket off I paused for a second; it seemed like the right thing to do.
What followed was not a casket but a bona fed body. It was on a stretcher in a black body bag, complete with feet poking up like circus tents. The body seemed to be a long one (aka, he took up the full stretcher) so I'm assuming this was a man. Either way, it was a thin body.
For those of you who think I'm completely nuts, let me justify my fascination with advising you that my university studies revolved around dead bodies. Skeletons, forensics and human behaviour were my subjects of choice (maybe a little English was thrown in).
It was such an odd sight, this body fresh from the hospital. I certainly wasn't expecting anything other than a pine box (possibly mahogany, considering the neighbourhood). I've seen lots of bodies, fresh and foul, during my own employment at a funeral home. Thing is, I always knew the story behind them.
I don't know this body's story. Where did they come from? Why did they die?
Tonight I was walking the pooch again and saw a crowd milling around the same funeral home - likely the family and friends of the deceased.
I didn't stick around but I still wonder, what is the story?
Debating the dead,