A Story by 'CharredTorso'
MAKE IT VIRAL:
BITS AND PIECES FROM THE DEAD
Writing these short stories has dredged up incidents that I had forgotten about along ago. I will provide a few in this installment for your reading pleasure.
My partner and I responded to a "house call" where a person dies at home or in a house. When we got to the house, the front door was wide open. We cautiously yelled for anyone inside, then walked into the house. Morticians get pranked more frequently that we find entertaining, I thought this was another prank call.
As we entered the living room, we observed a huge, morbidly obese man laying on a gigantic couch. It was obvious he had been dead for several hours. This was back in the days before cell phones and we were trying to decide what to do next, when two carloads of people rolled up in front of the house.
Out of the two cars stepped six of the fattest people I had ever seen to that date. They were carrying enough take out food to feed 20 people. They said that after they called the Mortuary, they got hungry and went out to get a SNACK before they had dinner. All six sat down on chairs with TV trays in front of them and started shoving food in their faces, like they hadn't eaten in a week. Watching my partner and I wrestle their 500 pound relative was exhausting work. One of them actually fell asleep before we got the body out of the house.
I was 18, brand new in the corpse business, working for a company that made removals of bodies from the place of death to contract funeral homes all over Los Angeles County. I could be in Beverly Hills one hour and in an alley in Compton the next hour. I was dispatched to meet a man from a Black funeral home, down in the bowels of South Central Los Angeles. The Black Undertaker was sitting in his car waiting for me. "Where da fuck you been, I been sitt'in here for 45 minutes.
We walked into a home packed full of Afro-Americans. Some were crying, most were drinking and about half were wailing at the top of their lungs. This was scary shit for a young white boy from the San Fernando Valley, they looked at me like I was wearing a Klan Hood. The black mortician snatched the transport cot away from me and started plowing it into the gathered masses. "Move Nigger, move, get the fuck out of my way Nigger." And variations on that there all the way through the house and into the bedroom where the body was.
The deceased was laying half off of the bed with a trail of snot and vomit slowly dripping on the bedroom floor. The undertaker grabbed the deceased by his neck and dragged the body off the bed and on to the cot I had collapsed to the floor. This was all done in front of 15 or so people packed into the bedroom. Within seconds he was ramming into people and yelling "Nigger, get out of my way."all the way out to my transport vehicle. Guess who was getting the stink eye from the grieving citizens?
It wasn't the black undertaker......
I followed his car back to his mortuary and got the body loaded on an embalming table. Suddenly, the undertaker's demeanor changed. "Hey, y'all want a drink?" There was a full bar set up just outside the embalming room. I graciously declined the drink offer and headed out to my vehicle parked behind the mortuary in an alley. I walked right into a HUGE ALL BLACK GANG FIGHT! There were shots being fired, fist fights, and probably several social surgeries in progress. I beat it back into the mortuary. "See, I knew you'd want a drink......"
I sipped on a rum and coke until I could clearly hear the radios on cop cars coming from the alley. I
cautiously tip toed out to my car, when an LAPD spotlight lit me up. "What the fuck are you doing down here at 1 am?" "Officer, I have no real idea, just dropping off a body here." "Son, you are way out of your element, you'd better get out of here NOW!" And off I went.
One early morning, while working for a chain of mortuaries, I was embalming a body at their Compton branch. As I finished the preparation and was walking towards my "meat wagon", someone took a shot at me! I heard the shot and saw the impact on the mortuary wall on the side of the garage. I low crawled into my car and hauled ass down Long Beach Blvd. I saw a Compton PD unit rolling down the street. I pulled up next to them and pointed to the curb. Three blocks later, they pulled over and demanded I get out of my car with my hands over my head. When they were relatively certain the white boy wasn't going to harm them they got out of their cruiser. "I just got shot at over at the mortuary!" "Did you get hit?" "No." "Then what do you want us to do?" "Do you have a description of the shooter?" "No." "Then you are lucky." They got back into their cop car and took off to parts unknown.
Want more thrilling and chilling stories about crushing crime or working with the dead? Throw your questions in my in box or write it below. CT
That is rediculous damn they went to get a bag of food to watch the poor supersize me 500 like national geografic.
Sir, Can you please tell us how the Afro American girl die in the bedroom?
Last one sounds really scary. Thanks for sharing it
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