MAKE IT VIRAL:
a story by Charredtorso
When I moved out to the boondocks of the Eastern San Joaquin Valley, I had been a mortician for about 12 years. Up to this point, every death I had dealings with occurred in bed in a paved street or somewhere in between. The mortuary I went to work for was a two man operation, with the help of some part time staff. My employer had been running the business by himself, without a day off for about four months. As soon as the wicked Red Witch and I got our stuff moved into our rented house, he told me he was going to take 3-5 days off on the Central Coast. "I don't know the area, what if I get a Coroner's call out in the middle of nowhere?" "Don't worry, it never happens.....bye."
The bosses back bumper wasn't out of the city limits when I got a call from the Sheriff/Coroner's Office, regarding a highway fatality. I jumped into the meat wagon and drove across the street to the 76 Gas Station. "Hi, I am the new undertaker, can you tell me where highway ___ and Avenue ___ is?" The shocked pump jockey gave me directions to a location about a mile out of town.
When I rolled up to the scene, every emergency vehicle in the Eastern half of the County was there. A double hopper semi-truck full of oranges was parked in the middle of the highway and I could see a crumpled up sedan laying in the middle of an Orange grove.
I got out of the car in big city undertaker garb; grey slacks, white shirt, dark tie, a blue blazer and wing tip dress shoes. An alien jumping out of a space ship would have gotten the same looks that I did. I saw a Highway Patrol Sargent, walked up and introduced myself as the new undertaker. I had to meet the Sheriff's Deputies and every member of the volunteer fire department on scene. There were another 30-40 people milling around and gawking out towards the orange grove.
The Sargent said that the woman driving the sedan ran the stop sign and got T-Boned by the huge orange transport. Her car flew about 50 feet into the grove of trees and she was ejected. "Ok Sarge, where is she now?" He pointed out to the middle of the recently irrigated orange grove. There, covered in mud, with her bra and blouse up under her armpits and her jeans and underwear down around her ankles, was the deceased.
At that time, the county prohibited nude or topless entertainment. So this appealed to everyone that drove by at several levels, nudity, core and trauma. "Sargent, have you done all of your measurements and taken all the photos you need?" "Yes" "Well do you mind if I cover her up?"
"Oh ahh no, I guess not. I walked over to the edge of the highway and realized that the body was embedded in about 3 feet of mud!
I talked a late arriving volunteer fire fighter into loaning me his waders. Then I enlisted three others to wade out into the mud with a backboard to extricate the mud angel. I got her onto my cot and back to the mortuary. It took me nearly two hours of scrubbing, to get all of the mud removed, before I could embalm the mud angel. Before I could put scalpel to flesh, her family called and requested an immediate cremation, with no viewing.
I learned a valuable lesson that day. If you are leaving the city limits to pick up a body. ALWAYS bring some work boots and a pair of jeans. Those items came in very handy several times during my tenure in the boondocks.
Sounds like a lesson I learned moving from Connecticut down to Podunk Tennessee.
And as many looks as you got for your apparel, I got for mentioning my "aunt" instead of my "ain't."
God fucking lord what have I done.
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