“Elizabeth, darling, you look wonderful,” Margaret said, brushing at the maggots crawling through the exposed muscles of her arm.
“Well, I was a mortician’s wife before my Daniel passed for the second time.” Elizabeth paused and took a sip of ice tea from her frost-covered glass. “I know a thing or two about taking care of a dead body.”
“Could you give a girl a few tips?”
“No offense dear, but it is tad more difficult after time has gone by. Although…there may be a bit I can do.”
“Well, you should consider it a service to people like us. Perhaps you could become some sort of beautician for the non-departed.”
Elizabeth set her glass down on a lace doily. “I have other ambitions I’m afraid. I’m always trying to find the right kind of man. The kind that will give me what my miserable husband never would. Did I tell you that my quack of a psychiatrist had the audacity to tell me that the one thing I have always wanted is an abomination?”
“Oh dear,” Margaret said, covering her mouth with her rotted hand. “How did you deal with that?”
“I ate his brains of course.”
Margaret laughed. “If you help me freshen up a bit, I’ll gladly give you a tip that will help you out.”
“Do tell.”
“Follow the hearse named Desire,” Margaret said.
Elizabeth chuckled. “You’re pulling what’s left of my leg darling.”
“I’m quite serious,” Margaret said. “It’s owned by Junior Gauthier, the son of William Gauthier. He always was a capricious little devil. When his poppa died he took over the funeral home and turned it into something of a circus. He replaced all the old finery in the place with trashy modern décor and bought a custom license plate that reads ‘DESIRE’ for the hearse. The place is a gaudy mess I tell you, but for whatever reason – some strange irony of life I suppose – almost all the bodies that pass through his mortuary seem to rise again.”
“Hush now, Margaret Dubois! That sounds like rumor and gossip.”
Margaret held her hand over her heart, partially to push it back into place, and stared earnestly at her friend. “As God is my witness, I’ve seen them rise off the table myself time and time again. They’re quite fresh if you know what I mean.”
“Margaret DuBois!” Elizabeth screeched. “Are you saying what I think you are?”
“Indeed I am.”
“Well, let’s take this into the parlor shall we? I do believe I can work wonders with you that will make Junior Gauthier’s head spin the next time you visit with him.”
Both ladies giggled as they went inside and Elizabeth’s mind raced with possibilities.
***
Margaret beamed as she looked down at her new fully flesh-covered arms. “Ms. Elizabeth, you truly are a miracle worker!”
“Just keep up those epoxy injections and you’ll be fine darling,” Elizabeth said sweetly. “Now that we have you all gussied up for Mr. Gauthier, do you think you could help me with my problem?”
Margaret rubbed her arms and smiled appreciatively. “Considering how long you’ve waited for this, I’ll be glad to help dear. Visit the parlor tonight around midnight tonight. Junior will be quite busy by then I assure you.”
Elizabeth blew her a kiss. “You’re a doll! Thank you.”
Margaret grabbed her small white Gucci handbag and tucked it under her arm. “Laissez les bons temps rouler my dear,” she said as she blew her a kiss back.
After her friend left, Elizabeth went to get her supplies ready.
***
By midnight, Elizabeth was lurking outside Gauthier Mortuary carrying a little black doctor’s bag. She peered through the barred window and saw Margaret prancing around Junior Gauthier wearing nothing but a set of black lace bra and panties. Junior was quite obviously enjoying the show. Margaret slowly led him into one of the other rooms.
Elizabeth ran for the back door. Thankfully, it was unlocked just as Margaret said it would be.
She moved soundlessly from gurney to gurney, softly giggling because she felt like Goldilocks. “This one’s too small,” she chuckled as she pulled the sheet back up over the dead man’s eyes. Thankfully, Junior had a full house that night so she had a good selection.
Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a body bag with a pronounced bulge in it. Elizabeth nearly stumbled over her own feet trying to get across the room. She unzipped the body bag…and ah…finally found what she was looking for. He was about six feet tall, lean built and sporting a massive erection.
She ran her fingers around the red blisters circling his neck. “Looks like it is true what they say about hanged men,” she whispered gleefully.
She touched him and the man opened his eyes.
Elizabeth smiled at him. “It’s quite alright, darling. We’re going to have a little fun you and I.”
He looked confused. Elizabeth saw that his movements were still relatively normal. He hadn’t been embalmed yet.
She retrieved a syringe containing a mixture of embalming fluid and other ingredients for her secret recipe from her bag. Elizabeth grabbed the man’s scrotum and injected the mixture directly into the tip of his penis. He moaned loudly and she put her hands over his mouth. “Ssssh,” she said. “I promise you this won’t take long.”
Elizabeth mounted him and furiously bobbed up and down, biting her tongue to keep from screaming, thrashing around madly until the zombie groaned and spent himself inside her. She climbed off him and began smoothing down her dress and fixing her hair.
The man reached for her and she darted for her medical bag, retrieved another needle and injected him with a sedative. As he fell back to sleep, she zipped up the bag and crept out the backdoor.
Elizabeth felt a little churn in her stomach and smiled.
She couldn’t wait to find out what kind of beautiful creature they created.
—
© 2011 Tony Smith.
Tony Smith is the real name of the pseudonym of a writer who suffers from multiple personality disorder. However, all of them hope you enjoyed this story. Tony Smith is actually a huge fan of Tennessee Williams and really hopes that Tennessee doesn’t rise out of grave and throttle him for taking a swipe at his work.
Nice story, Anthony!
Thanks Bob!