Eye of the Storm
I was stuck in a long line at a drugstore that had just opened up after a hurricane had grazed the town. The guy behind me started making small talk, asking if we had damage and if our power was back on. I found out he was new in town, had just graduated college and started a new job. When he asked gave me his number and asked me out, I said yes. At dinner he made me guess what his new job was. I couldn’t so he told me he was a mortician at a local crematorium. I was grossed out at first, but after a run of crappy boyfriends, I decided that I should give him a chance. We all need funeral directors and it would be shallow of me to ditch him for that even if I was a bit creeped out.
The next day, he called me from the car and said he was working. I really didn’t want to know more, but he crassly proceeded to tell me about the bodies he was driving around and was horrible about them. He talked about how they died, what happened, the families and just completely violated privacy rules and human decency. When he started to explain in graphic terms what the next steps were I hung up the phone. He kept calling for a week and invited me to the crematorium. When anyone dies in our large extended family, we make sure to call the other crematorium across town.



