Calmly Considering what Clothing to wear Tonight.
Jim Meirose

Was cause of death not determined immediately, no no, after death as the law requires? I am not sure I need to know this is a special case more before I proceed no this is down from the top but this is highly irregular very much so Doc, listen, don’t; no st’, wait—I’ve been licensed on the condition now listen this is from the top, Doc that I work just do the autopsy according to the law okay buh’ listen the sooner you are done huh why and we get out of here the better off all concerned will be. Okay?

During this debate the mysterious men stood firm, so—angry still, but knowing there was no point, Pig gathered the necessary tools around him; plugged in his saws, counted out his scissoring scalpelsharps, and bellied up and; yes and; as always when gazing on the subject to be opened, all fell away and he bent down braced ‘gainst the table and began to cut. Cut and snip trim and spread push out of the way this and push out of the way that all smelling of alcohol ‘r formaldehyde or perhaps simply picklejuice, but no time for reflection, because this man—which he ’mmediately had to admit might no’ be so—such was the state of its faulty preservation—the tissues organs some fat ‘n some shriveled, were hard to cut—and as he went through the steps for this day’s lesson, which day was quite long back ‘ctually, he recalled them all ‘round him ‘n human anatomy twelve, lab group five, so remarked to Lavender boy, who was just finishing up gowning, Christ, in the real world where the meat’s super-fresh, will the cutting be this hard? This’s all pickled-down brittle like this—Lavender boy stepped up but the answer came ‘ctually from Venisienne which said she loud, as she usually louded out this way when in mid-slice ‘n slash, no, those ought to be butter-like eh, knives o’er butter, and Lavender boy leant in, saying, Yes, but, if in fact those we do in the future protest in such a rock-hard way, they will need to be put in their places, like this! And he randomly slashed o’er the pickleydown organmass, and, Like that! as he stabbed deep, direct a’ blow, to the random masse of stale hard meat before them, and; he said; and they all three agreed; the best line of work for us after we get th’ fat hanging sheepies, would be to skinny down as pathologists, or funeral stab-slashers, or what have we, you, them, or how out our anyhoots, you can’t kill the dead fuck up so what have a bad day and fuck up, so what, have a few too many whatever night’s prior and fuck up, so what—he gang, silly! ‘f ya can’t kill ‘em they can’t die! And, way back that day’s wave of hilarity washed over a rogue wave actually and in their hilarity, they stab, slice, eyes closed ‘r eyes open, so what? Push, shove, test the sharp of this knife off the sharp of that there, how far in the heart can we stab? We stab? Come out the other end, the encore being a prick down the leg of the long eh eh, so what? And that we the best day Pig had God bless Chester, Venisienne, and this random dead person, who meant to help humanity by their selfless sciencestiffic donation of their whole entire body, all babyfat still hung there, nor there, no issue—and Pig smilingly sliced some big hard lumpy thing with a knife, expecting the usual slimy nameless mass of a closeup shot, down into a bowl of pork and beans, or perhaps something else entirely, but—there’s a spidery metallic manylegger of some grasp of a thing there, all-stead, hey. Plainly deadly ‘ffn y’all ask me Doc. Hup.

They pulled back agape.

What the hell can this be?