"When we lift her out of the box," Steve Lucas instructed. "Grab the headrest from the coffin and put it on the workbench." Mrs. Johnson was light enough that Count and Steve Lucas lifted her from her casket. I grabbed the headrest, which was a small pillow, and scampered around Count.
"Hurry up. I'm losing her." Steve Lucas warned.
"I threw the headrest on the workbench.
"James, grab a leg!" Count told me.
Oh shit, I thought reaching for the ankle closet to me. I'll never forget the revulsion. The cold, hardness of her skin radiated up my arm and through my body. The hair on the nape of my neck stood, my stomach turned. Involuntarily, my hand jerked away, causing Steve Lucas to bark, "Morrison don't be such a patsy! The old bag won't bite!"
'Fuck you," I cried.
"Girls," Shannie said.
I rubbed my hands on my trouser legs and took a deep breath before again grabbing Mrs. Johnson's ankle. "On three," Count said. "Ready, One. Two. Three." We lifted Mrs. Johnson and set her down on the high workbench. The cold, heavy feel of death clung to my hands. The remainder of the night I rubbed my hands together. When I got home, I held them under hot water.
"At least I don't have to worry about you being a necrophiliac," Shannie teased.
I'm glad grandfather was cremated. I thought. I'm glad I never saw him dead - the sight would have robbed me of the image of the smiling old hippie making passes at stewardesses. Count draped the tarp over the smiling corpse. "We can't leave her here," I said as the others made their way to the door.
"For Christ's sake!" Steve Lucas lamented.
"Geezus Pete!" Shannie cried.
"The hell we can't!" Count bellowed.
"Really," I pleaded. "It's not right. How would you like it if that was Diane, or my grandfather?" I stared at my friends; my hands curled at my sides.
"It's not; so it's no big deal. We're running late; let's go," Count said.
"You're a Jackass!" Steve Lucas exclaimed.
"Let's get the coffin loaded," Shannie instructed. "It's time to put a little fun in funeral."
As Count was pulling out of Fernwood, Shannie asked if he remembered to lock the shed. "Shit. I forgot," he answered.
"Who cares," Steve Lucas said. "Who's going to poke around a cemetery shed?"