Morgue Madness

It was 5am when i stood in front of the door to the hospital's morgue, contemplating how i was going to get through the next half hour. the other housekeeper who showed me around at the beginning of the shift said that "luckily" there were bodies in the freezer so i wouldn't have to mop that floor, only the main room, an office and the two autopsy rooms. phewf. what a fucking relief.

when i opened the door, i felt like i was in the middle of the texas chainsaw massacre movie, and leatherface was going to emerge from the silence of the graveyard shift and hack me to pieces. there were five steel stretchers sitting across the doors to the two autopsy rooms, so, knowing that at least one of them had been used in the last few hours, i used as little of my gloved hand as possible to push them out of the way. Peering inside one of the rooms, i saw the stainless steel operating table, garnished with a serrated knife the size of a saw, and a fucking SPATULA.

more than ever, i could feel death permeating my skin. i was alone in the basement of the hospital when everyone else, save a few nurses and patients, were asleep, and i couldn't peel from my mind the image of dead bodies collapsed over steel stretchers.

i had to get the fuck out of there. as quickly as possible, i shut all the lights and locked the doors, paged the lead hand and told him there was no fecking way i was going back in there. i dunno. i've shoveled contaminated sludge, slung chicken at the dirty bird, washed dishes, harassed innocent people over the phone, all for a buck. i've pretty much done everything. but not this. definitely not this.