There was a story in the news recently about a fish-store owner who drove to the airport to pick up a special delivery of exotic fish. The seven-foot long package they gave him did not, in fact, contain $1,000 worth of exotic fish. It contained exactly one dead man – Jon Kenoyer.
The dead man was supposed to be delivered to some institute – he had donated his body to “science”.
What the f*ck?
A) Who does that?
B) What does that even mean? What sort of experiments can be performed on a man that has been dead for 5 days?
C) Who does that?
D) Isn’t that whole embalming thing done so that your loved ones don’t have to plug their noses while they kneel in front of your stiff corpse at your wake?
E) Was Jon packed in those cute little peanuts or placed gently in a silk-lined coffin?
More about rotting meat:
We left Minnesota in the middle of a heat-wave one summer and returned to discover a “freezer” full of rotting meat.
The cab dropped us off and we dragged our luggage past tumbleweeds and panting squirrels.
That’s how hot it was.
Opening the front door of the house was like opening the tomb of Lazarus.
“Various Meats, come forth!”
Whereupon they that were dead stayed dead. The stench of rotting meat stung our noses. The refrigerator in the basement had lost power and 40lbs of frozen chicken, cow, and pig thawed and rotted. To make matters more delicious, every window had been shut tight for two weeks.
Two steamy weeks.
I had a dream last night about a really, really smelly raccoon. He wanted to be my “companion” but every time he came near me, I winced – it made him feel bad. I kept apologizing and saying, “okay, I’m sure it’ll be fine this time – come closer.”