When Bert graduated from Acme Mortician School, he startled the funeral home community by opening the first drive-thru funeral business in America. To ensure everybody was aware of his innovation, he bombarded the public with radio, TV, and newspaper ads.
“Fed up with costly funerals? Bring your loved ones to Bert’s Drive-Thru Cut-Rate Funeral Emporium where funerals are only $39.95. How can we offer such bargain basement prices? We use machines instead of morticians. All you have to do is put the deceased in your car, and drop him off at our super-convenient, self-service Drive-Thru. And while you’re here, stay for the show. Watch on giant, outdoor, high definition TVs how corpses are processed in our fully automated Funeral Emporium. New show starts every thirty minutes. And don’t forget to come to our grand opening celebration on Labor Day. The first fifty customers who bring a corpse will enjoy a free buffet lunch at our new restaurant, The Happy Cadaver. Save mega-bucks on your next funeral. Bring your loved ones to Bert’s Drive-Thru Cut-Rate Funeral Emporium.”
The commercials always ended with Bert singing, “There’s no business like show business.”
Bert’s advertising campaign worked. Hundreds of cars, trucks, vans, station wagons, SUVS, motor homes, and tour busses showed up on opening day. However, two hours after the ribbon cutting ceremony, not a single corpse had been dropped off at the Drive-Thru. Bert had to cancel the first four shows.
Visitors became restless. Many honked, hooted, whistled, booed, cursed.
Harry, the funeral home’s only employee, spoke to the crowd through the public address system.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, we’re sorry for the delay. Frankly, we hoped some of you would have brought a deceased body or two. So, what we’d like you to do right now is to check everyone in your vehicles to see if any of them might be on the verge of dying. The first person who brings a fresh corpse to our Drive-Thru in the next five minutes will get a special bonus.”
“What’s the bonus?” somebody yelled from an SUV.
“A hundred dollars. Plus a free buffet lunch at our new restaurant, The Happy Cadaver.”
When nobody came forth, Harry said, “Are you sure there aren’t any seniors out there who are on the verge of heart failure? How about potential massive strokes? Any aneurisms about to burst?”
Still no response.
“What about suicides? Anybody here fed up with life? Anybody with nerves frazzled so bad, they can’t go on? How about deep depression? Anybody in utter despair? If so, come forward, and we’ll be happy to help. We have a fine selection of cyanide pills, ropes, razor blades–just about anything you need to end it all.”
”We got a dead body over here!” somebody yelled from a battered Toyota. “Granny just slipped and banged her head against a door handle. She ain’t got no pulse. And she’s bleedin’ all over the place.”
Nobody knew the Toyota’s passengers had decided a hundred dollars was far better than having a ninety-year old, sickly grandma hanging around. One of them whacked her head with a tire iron. The driver pulled her bloody body out of the car and dragged it toward Harry.
“Looks like we have a winner,” Harry said. “What’s the deceased’s name?”
“Granny Smith.”
“Ladies and gentlemen. I’m pleased to announce we have our very first customer. Let’s hear it for Granny Smith.”
Visitors applauded, whistled, honked.
Harry helped the bereaved carry the bloody corpse to the Drive-Thru where they dropped her on a gurney. After wiping blood from his hands, Harry called Bert to tell him the good news. Elated, Bert hurried from his office to the Drive-Thru. When he checked the woman, he discovered a faint heartbeat. Disgusted, he called an ambulance.
“False alarm,” Harry told disappointed visitors. “Sorry about that. Looks like we still need a corpse.”
Some in the crowd booed and threw empty beer bottles at Harry and Bert.
Bert took out his cell phone and acted as if he’d just received a call. Grabbing the microphone, he said, “Ladies and gentlemen, I have good news. I just got word that a body’s on the way. The show will start in twenty minutes. In the meantime, visit our snack stands and get a free bag of popcorn.”
When applause broke out, he told Harry, “We have a potentially explosive situation here. Let’s go to my office where it’ll be safer.”
On the way, Harry asked Bert why he lied.
“I had to tell them something. They’re in a nasty mood. I hope they don’t start a riot.”
“Maybe we oughta call 911 and ask for a SWAT team.”
“I’ve been thinking the same thing,” Bert said. “Especially since it might be a while before a body turns up. Would you believe nobody died over the past two days?”
“How do you know?”
“I called the morgue. Their slabs and refrigerators are empty. Then I called the ambulance service, hoping they had a hit and run victim, or maybe a DUI who might’ve slammed into a pole. But they had nothing. This is unbelievable for a holiday weekend. I even called my competitors to see if I could borrow a body. But they don’t have any. Like me, they can’t figure out why there’s a sudden dry spell. Maybe it has something to do with global warming.”
As they reached the office, Harry asked, “So what are we gonna do?”
“I’m going to ask you to honor the employment agreement you signed.”
“Do you mean the clause that said I was subject to lay off if things got tough?”
When Harry fell to the floor with a bullet in his brain, Bert said. “Not that clause. I meant the one where you agreed to do whatever’s necessary to meet the needs of the business.”
Heading for the Drive-Thru with Harry’s body aboard a gurney, Bert sang, “There’s no business like show business.”
___
© 2008 Michael A. Kechula
Michael A. Kechula is a retired tech writer. His fiction has won first place in seven contests and placed in six others. He’s also won Editor’s Choice awards four times. His stories have been published by 124 magazines and anthologies in Australia, Canada, England, India, Scotland, and US. He’s authored a book of flash and micro-fiction stories: “A Full Deck of Zombies–61 Speculative Fiction Tales.” eBook available at www.BooksForABuck.com and www.fictionwise.com. Paperback available at www.amazon.com.
Tags: Michael A. Kechula
March 5th, 2009 at 11:56 am
I love callous horror stories like this, and Michael delivers them very well. I was in a collection with him called Chimeraworld 3. It’s full of stories like this and remains one of my favorites.
March 5th, 2009 at 2:15 pm
Loved this story. Of course now I’ll have Ethel Merman in my head all day.