Pallbearer

I was standing, watching them struggle with the coffin. They looked over in my direction and asked, "Can anyone young and strong help us with this?" I looked around to see if there were any able-bodied men around, but there weren't, so I went forward and offered my services as a pallbearer.

The coffin was light. We carried it through a glass door, making a sharp right turn and placed the coffin on the marble slab. By that time, there was a crowd of mourners surrounding us.

Elizabeth was the chief embalmer and funeral director. She told everyone in her lawyer's voice, "Mr Tze was 84 years old. Perhaps you all better stand back when we open the coffin." Stand back? Whatever for? Are old dead bodies worse than young dead bodies?

Suddenly, a sick sour smell hit me. The coffin lid had five sections that opened separately. Elizabeth had just opened the top section of the coffin, revealing a death mask with holes for the eyes, nose and mouth. Underneath the death mask was a bloated, disfigured face -- it was so bloated that it took up the entire section of coffin. The sick sour smell made the crowd reel with terror and shrink back into the edges of the dream.

Elizabeth continued opening the other sections of the coffin, apparently unfazed by the smell. Upper Torso; Lower Torso -- a mess of bloated intestines; the smell intensified. What kind of embalmer was she? The dead embalming the dead?

She really sucks at her job.