“The corpse containers will be here momentarily.”
“Why does he keep saying that?” Hasn’t he ever heard the word casket?”
“Oh what difference does it make? As long as they come and we can get into one, I don’t care what word he uses.”
“Well, the fact is, they aren’t gonna come. He always says they will be here momentarily.”
“Hey mac!. Why you gotta say corpse container. Just say casket. It’s quicker.”
“Or how about coffin?”
“The fact of the matter is that corpse container is the proper descriptor for the object.” The other words are not.”
“Are not? Why are not? Everyone knows what a casket is.”
“Do they? How would you know?” Do you even know the provenance of the word?”
“Oh now he’s talkin’ about providences and stuff like that! When the coffins comin’?”
“Hey how about body baskets? That’s a good prescription.”
“You mean description. And it is not, since you are no longer bodies.”
“Now hold on a minute! What is we if we ain’t bodies no more?”
“yeah I mean we got no souls left I don’t think, but we’re still bodies.”
“You are no longer bodies. You are corpses.”
“What’s the difference?”
“Once you died, you became a corpse That is why we are waiting for the corpse containers.”
“Wait a minute. Are you a corpse too?”
“Of course I am. We all are.”
“Well, how’d you get this job? Why don’t you get buried or burnt like everybody else?”
“Yeah, who put you in charge? Haha.”
“The work needs to get done by someone. So some of us stay behind to manage that.”
“And the rest of us get put in the coffin and go six feet under. Ain’t that somethin’?”
“Fine with me! I need to get out of here and get some rest.”
“The corpse containers will be here momentarily.”
Quiet
Finally, the corpse containers did in fact arrive and the corpses all got very excited. Finally they could get some rest. Although some of the corpses exclaimed, “My casket!” or “Yay, my coffin?”, the manager, for some reason, insisted that everyone call them corpse containers and that no other term would be permitted.
“Oh really?”, said one corpse. “What are you going to do, kill us?”
and they all burst out laughing. The ones that could do so anyway, as some of the corpses sadly had no mouths, tongues, noses etc and laughing was difficult, but you could tell by the gleam in their otherwise empty gaze, that they appreciated the joke and thought it was funny like the others.
The manager tried to maintain some semblance of control but it was quite chaotic. Corpses were given a number and searched for their corresponding casket, or pardon me, corpse container. They jumped in and laid down, much as you might do upon arriving at the beach and setting up your chaise lounge, dipping your feet in the chilly salt water of the incoming waves. It was that same kind of joy and comfort that the corpses felt laying down in their containers.
Hey mac? How’s yours feel?
Fits me like a charm, Joey. How about the one you got?
And on and on it went as the corpses settled in to their new homes. For this was it, for the rest of eternity. Did that thought even dawn on them, for it seems more like they were strapping themselves in for a ride on a roller coaster which would be over in a few minutes. In fact, this was, as they say, their final resting place.
The graveyard is such a cold and lonely place
They put you in a hole and throw that dirt right in your face.
Joey was reminded of the joke about the serial killer who leads a young woman into the cemetery late night. She has no idea what’s about to befall her, and she shivers and says, “my I’m scared. The cemetery is so creepy. And the serial killer says, “How do you think I feel? I gotta walk outta here alone.”
As the corpses settled in, one problem became quite clear. Who was going to close the corpse containers and transport them from the morgue to the cemetery? Who was going to do all of that because the only one not lying in a casket at the moment was the manager and he looked to be a corpse him or herself. A few lifted what was left of their heads and peeked up over the edge of their corpse containers and looked around, kind of like you might imagine the scene to be of a bunch of prairie dogs peeking out of their holes in the ground.
But alas, the manager began to make the rounds and made swift work of the job at hand. You could tell the manager was very experienced as soon enough everyone was happily shut up in their box with the lid firmly attached and soon enough, the ground began to rumble beneath them as if they were traveling on a journey somewhere. The smell of hay and cow manure and wildflowers wafted through the air and even reached some of their olfactory nerves through the porous wood of the corpse containers. The wind was blowing. It seemed to be mid morning perhaps. A beautiful Spring morning, as the sky slowly darkened and the sound of dirt rained down upon them.
A collective sigh of comfort and relief spread throughout the corps, if we can call them that for it is but a slight difference between a corp and corpse, a body and its after effect. Much like a container of milk at the grocery store passed its expiration date, it still hasn’t gone bad, but it is still milk kind of. Maybe it will soon be cheese or cream or yogurt but that is the journey and our fate, one and all. The corpses wished each other a good night except for a few that wanted to stay up late and talk, which they did all day long and into the night.
THE MOSSY BOG 