NECromantic

"Every man to own taste. Mine is for corpses." - Henri Blot



I've never been to a funeral. I take that back. I've been to one: my great-grandmother's when I was about two. But given my age at that time, it easily escapes the grasp of my memory. I only remember the limo ride to the graveyard and my grandfather's pin to his lapel flower poking me as I tried to sleep through the ceremony. He died last year, and I downed a bottle of peroxide. In two minutes I was reenacting the famous projectile vomit scene from The Exorcist.

When my cat died a few years ago, I thought about a funeral, not his but one in general, and I began to discover rigor mortis of my own. While most kids my age steal a Playboy from the local convenience store, I steal the local obituary section from my neighbor's newspaper.

Of course there's the usual "Rita Crouton, 94, dies of natural causes." Those I must get creative with. But every now and then I hit GOLD: "Betsy Courtesy, 19"--that's all I need. I picture her surrounded by silk lining in her Sunday's best. I imagine running my hands up her stalking, up her skirt. My heart starts pounding and hands begin to shake. My rigor mortis grows intense, stomach crippling, and I want to scream but I keep it in, building intensity until...

I don't know why I am the way I am. I've looked into these things and I can't see where I fit in. I'm not in any way "psychotic," I don't want to kill anybody. I dress clean cut? I don't know. It puzzles me. I know what I do isn't "normal" but it doesn't feel wrong. It feels natural to me and I'm still attracted to live females, but where boys find short skirts or sluts sexy, my lure is a lack of a pulse.

However, I am proud to say, I am smitten with a girl I can take home and not fear the sweet, succulent smell of rotting flesh alarming my family. She isn't strikingly gorgeous, but more like delightfully sweet and incredibly quiet. She just sits there in Anatomy, scribbling notes with such attention; I bet she's going to be a great--whatever she's here for.

I haven't been able to talk to her yet. Scenarios of me asking her to be my lab partner and her smiling sweetly, obviously love-struck, accepting my offer, and somehow they end in me sweeping our disemboweled formaldehyde-kitty onto the floor, splashing her with juices, thus miraculously making her--I'm getting carried away. But the point is this Thursday, tomorrow, we're starting a new lab and I don't care how nervous I get, I'm going to ask her to be my lab partner.



Walking into lab room 252, the distinct odor of formaldehyde floats about the room, and I can feel myself getting excited. I sit down in my seat and look around for my angel of Anatomy, but don't see her anywhere. It's 9 til 8, so she still has some time. I walk around the room, looking at the different displays to kill time. Pig fetus in a jar, human anatomical system models, preserved disected kitty (7:57, still no show). Cell system model, human skeleton model, other classes' biology proj--"Good morning class. Get out your goggles, grab a pair of gloves, and partner-up."

I look around the class while returning to my seat, still she's nowhere to be found. I take my time getting out my goggles, still looking around. I fumble around with my lab papers, check the book for show and time, still no where to be found. People are shuffling around, and I start to panic, looking at the door. 8:06, come on please!! Where are you?!

"Hey, do you want to be my partner?" I turn towards the voice and jump at the sight. It's that weird looking girl with no lips! WHY?!

I stare at her mouth and manage to make out a "Uhhh..."

"I'm sorry I'm late! My car's actin' funny and it took some trouble to start." YES! The butterflies in my stomach are having seizures, it's her!

This is it, stand tall. Shake the jitters off. Take a deep breath. "Uhm, hey..."

"Hey.." There's that smile! Oh jeezus that smile!

"Uhhhh..." What?! Oh God! Think, man! Think!! "D-do you want to partner up with me?"

Her smile brightens, "Okay."



Oh God! That was the best freakin' lab ever! We talked through most of it while finding the different chambers and vessles of the cow heart. I found out her name (Mary Ellen), why she's in Anatomy (she wants to be a forensic pathologist), and that she's had her eye on me also! Oh hell yes! I'm so excited! We set up a luncheon date for tomorrow for 3 pm at The Shed (her favorite cafe), followed by the Museum of Anatomy and Pathology. I can't believe this is really happening! I haven't been this excited about a girl since--ever! Oh shit, man. I really hope I don't blow it.



FUCKIN' GODDAMMIT! No, no, NO!! Go down! Bad! BAD! Jeezus fuckin' Christ, just my fuckin' luck. I plan on arriving early to make reservations, but not only is traffic all backed the fuck up but the reason it's backed up is because of a fuckin' crash! Goddammit, goddammit, GODDAMMIT! And then I see body bags, and then I think of funerals, and then--GODDAMMIT! WHY?! I managed to cut out of the line onto the nearest exit, but now I've got to drive around and get rid of--I'M LATE! Fuck fuck FUCK!

Okay, okay, calm down, calm down. Okay, what can I do? I've heard of slapping it... AAAA! NO! BAD! Okay, okay, okay. Uhhmm... SHITMOTHERFUCKERSHIT! Oh jeeze, how am I going to explain this... Fuck it.... I'm just going to go to a conveniece store bathroom and take care of this... It's what truckers do, right?



I arrive at The Shed fourty-three minutes late, praying to whatever fucking god that she's still there (and that I didn't make a mess anywhere I could have missed). I walk around the cafe but don't see a sign of her. I decide to wait around the bathrooms to see if she had to do whatever girls have to do in there, but nothing. I ask the staff if any of them had seen her but they said there was too many girls who fit that description.

I sulk back to my car and bash my head on the steering wheel. Why do I have to have this depravity?! Why do I have to have this life?! This luck?! This curse?! Jeezus Christ I'm fucking stupid, and better yet, I have no way of contacting her. My only option at this point is to wait until Monday so I could talk to her in class. I hope to fucking god she will forgive me...



[to be continued...]

What the fuck am I doing? Oh god, what the fuck am I doing?? Oh god, i want to continue but at the same time IT'S WRONG IT'S WRONG!!

Let's recap::

Monday, I get to 252 and hope to fucking god that my loveliness is there... and she isn't. Ms. Bear gave us an announcement that there was a crash Friday and Mary Ellen was in it.... Uh... maybe something about comatose, failing life support.... And I left bawling like a bitch. I flew out of the building, into my car, drove wrecklessly home, and found my big brother's big bottle of Jack Daniel's.... and this is where the story gets fuzzy.

I remember drinking..... and drinking..... and drinking.....

I remember...... somehow finding her in the obituary and.. not.. getting... hard?

I remember.... running out booze and thowing myself at my big brother to get some more... Then getting my ass kicked for taking his.... Then him handing me a new bottle in disgust and pity...

I remember........... calling a cab, downing a half a bottle.... and the looks of disgruntled disgust and anger of the family.... Then her dad grabbing me... Then I blacked out.
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Boy meets girl-Boy and girl fall in love-Boy and girl are physically or metaphorically separated-Boy and girl overcome incredible odds to be together (Usually the boy ends up saving the girl)-They live happily ever after