roadkill with a beard.”
“Don’t say that,” she said. “No matter who that poor man is he deserves our respect. He was once someone’s little angel baby.”
“You mean Hells Angel baby,” I pointed out. “I should be dressed like the devil in honor of that guy.”
“Even the devil wears clean underpants,” she said, pointing the threatening tip of the hot iron at my skimpy towel. “And put on clean socks, pants, a belt, an undershirt, comb your hair, brush your teeth, and put on your shoes, and when you do all of that I’ll be waiting at the door with your perfectly ironed white shirt and then you can leave the house.”
“How do you remember all that stuff?” I asked over my shoulder as I ran back down the hall.
“I have it memorized ,” she shouted behind me, “because I’m forced to say it every day of your animal boy life!”
By the time I did everything Mom told me to do she was standing at the porch door holding my shirt out like a bullfighting cape. I wiggled my arms into the sleeves. She buttoned me up the front as I buttoned my cuffs, then I tucked my shirttails in. “Thanks, Mom,” I said, and gave her a kiss and fled.
“Hey!” Dad called behind me as I ran past him. “Where are you going? I still need your help.”
“Miss Volker called!” I yelled over my shoulder, and kept running toward her house. “There is a dead guy she has to see!”
“If only she were next,” Dad hollered back. “Then we’d get some of this work done around here.”
* * *
Miss Volker was already sitting in her car. “Hurry,” she called from the passenger window. “I just cooked my hands so I can use my fingers to examine the body.” She was wearing quilted oven mitts in order to keep her hands warm.
I started the car and put it in Drive. “Hang on,” I warned her. “I think I’m getting better at this.” I punched the gas pedal to the floor. The back tires shot gravel through the open garage door and we blasted down the driveway. The tires squealed as we turned onto the Norvelt road and about thirty seconds later I hit the brakes and we swerved crazily into the parking lot at the Huffer Funeral Parlor.
“You’re a fast learner,” she remarked. “You’ve gone from slowpoke to safety hazard in one day.”
I grinned with pride. But that was my last grin for a while.
Mr. Huffer was waiting for us in the back room where he prepared all the cadavers. It smelled of formaldehyde. I knew it looked like a mad scientist’s laboratory because Bunny had shown it to me when it was unoccupied. There was a work table topped with a big yellowed marble slab that had a drainage groove carved around it. I remembered seeing that because it looked like one of the Aztec sacrificial altar stones where the victims had their hearts cut out and the blood snaked along the groove and down into a beautiful golden cup that would then be offered up with the still-beating heart to satisfy the bloody appetite of the Aztec gods. But with the Hells Angel on the slab I kept my eyes lowered and stared down at my shoes. I may have been a big talker to Bunny and Mom, but I didn’t want to see that dead man. Just the thought of his roadkill body made me queasy and I knew my nose would spew like a busted dike if I even peeked at him.
Bunny stood next to me and tapped me on the leg. “You okay?” she whispered.
“Sure,” I said with false bravery, and stupidly took a step forward which was a mistake, because next to my foot was a bucket filled with thick human fluids. Don’t look into the bucket again, I warned myself and jerked my head away. I took a deep breath and lifted my head for just long enough to see the victim’s mangled boots on display at the far end of the table.
“They had to cut the boots off of him,” Bunny informed me. “He was really clobbered.”
I looked back down at my shoes and took another deep breath. I closed my eyes but the room began to spin so I opened them a
“Don’t say that,” she said. “No matter who that poor man is he deserves our respect. He was once someone’s little angel baby.”
“You mean Hells Angel baby,” I pointed out. “I should be dressed like the devil in honor of that guy.”
“Even the devil wears clean underpants,” she said, pointing the threatening tip of the hot iron at my skimpy towel. “And put on clean socks, pants, a belt, an undershirt, comb your hair, brush your teeth, and put on your shoes, and when you do all of that I’ll be waiting at the door with your perfectly ironed white shirt and then you can leave the house.”
“How do you remember all that stuff?” I asked over my shoulder as I ran back down the hall.
“I have it memorized ,” she shouted behind me, “because I’m forced to say it every day of your animal boy life!”
By the time I did everything Mom told me to do she was standing at the porch door holding my shirt out like a bullfighting cape. I wiggled my arms into the sleeves. She buttoned me up the front as I buttoned my cuffs, then I tucked my shirttails in. “Thanks, Mom,” I said, and gave her a kiss and fled.
“Hey!” Dad called behind me as I ran past him. “Where are you going? I still need your help.”
“Miss Volker called!” I yelled over my shoulder, and kept running toward her house. “There is a dead guy she has to see!”
“If only she were next,” Dad hollered back. “Then we’d get some of this work done around here.”
* * *
Miss Volker was already sitting in her car. “Hurry,” she called from the passenger window. “I just cooked my hands so I can use my fingers to examine the body.” She was wearing quilted oven mitts in order to keep her hands warm.
I started the car and put it in Drive. “Hang on,” I warned her. “I think I’m getting better at this.” I punched the gas pedal to the floor. The back tires shot gravel through the open garage door and we blasted down the driveway. The tires squealed as we turned onto the Norvelt road and about thirty seconds later I hit the brakes and we swerved crazily into the parking lot at the Huffer Funeral Parlor.
“You’re a fast learner,” she remarked. “You’ve gone from slowpoke to safety hazard in one day.”
I grinned with pride. But that was my last grin for a while.
Mr. Huffer was waiting for us in the back room where he prepared all the cadavers. It smelled of formaldehyde. I knew it looked like a mad scientist’s laboratory because Bunny had shown it to me when it was unoccupied. There was a work table topped with a big yellowed marble slab that had a drainage groove carved around it. I remembered seeing that because it looked like one of the Aztec sacrificial altar stones where the victims had their hearts cut out and the blood snaked along the groove and down into a beautiful golden cup that would then be offered up with the still-beating heart to satisfy the bloody appetite of the Aztec gods. But with the Hells Angel on the slab I kept my eyes lowered and stared down at my shoes. I may have been a big talker to Bunny and Mom, but I didn’t want to see that dead man. Just the thought of his roadkill body made me queasy and I knew my nose would spew like a busted dike if I even peeked at him.
Bunny stood next to me and tapped me on the leg. “You okay?” she whispered.
“Sure,” I said with false bravery, and stupidly took a step forward which was a mistake, because next to my foot was a bucket filled with thick human fluids. Don’t look into the bucket again, I warned myself and jerked my head away. I took a deep breath and lifted my head for just long enough to see the victim’s mangled boots on display at the far end of the table.
“They had to cut the boots off of him,” Bunny informed me. “He was really clobbered.”
I looked back down at my shoes and took another deep breath. I closed my eyes but the room began to spin so I opened them a
Similar Books
