The Young Lady's Guide To Improvisation Corps Disposal Analysis

The Young Lady's Guide To Improvisational Corpse Disposal
3864 words
"Hit him again."
I don't want to hit him again.
"J'you hear me? Said hit him again
. Or do you want to find out what happens to selfish bitches who say no to me?"
I don't want to hit him again. I want to turn and explain to this guy that defibrillators don't work like that. That if I charge up the paddles and hit him again, it's not going to bring his friend back to life.
This isn't
Frankenstein
, I'm not some mad scientist, and his buddy here isn't anything but a stiff forever.
This isn't my fight. This isn't my life.
If I hit him again, the only thing that's going to happen is that it's going to burn whatever's left of him and it's going to smell somehow worse in here.

The shotgun clatters to the floor. I watch for another second
—
his red flannel shirt smolders. Catches on fire. I'm alone again. He's gone.
Just like that.
Maybe I should explain.
#
I don't n ormally spend my nights like this.
Normally I'm a nice, normal girl with a nice, normal life in a nice, normal town.
Normal, normal, normal.
But even normal girls get the kinds of calls they can't ignore sometimes.
I light another cigarette and use eve ry ounce of strength I have left to heave the second dead asshole into the shower stall, right on top of his friend. Blow smoke at them and take another long drag, hoping it'll help the smell of death and burned flesh and voided bowels. It doesn't.
I st are and wonder the quickest way to get rid of them. Not like I have time to pile them both in my trunk, drive out to the desert and bury 'em. I could just leave them, I suppose. Walk out, lock the door behind me, pretend I was never here. But odds were
, someone would come looking and find them like this. More attention. Lots of physical evidence. So no go there.
No, it seems to me the only real option is the chemical. Melt them down and flush 'em down the drain. Proper Heisenburg
-
style. No muss, no fuss. Just