Pseudopod 96: The Cutting Room


By Shane Jiraiya Cummings

Read by Damaris Mannering

Hic locus est ubi mors gaudet succurrere vitae.

The plaque gleamed, caught on the cusp of shadows and fluorescent light.
Burnished copper letters. Stark Roman font.

“This is the place where death delights to help the living.” Parrish’s
recital of the phrase was now ritual as he donned the second pair of latex
gloves. They snapped into place with a satisfying echo that hung in the air.
Smells of rubber and disinfectants clung to the place, thinly masking the
stench of decay.

The plaque had been there for as long as he could remember, even before the
tenure of crazy old Doc Kaufmann, who once famously ate a cadaver’s eyeball,
and perversely, taught him everything he knew about forensic pathology.

“Doctor Parrish?” The diener said, throwing his concentration into turmoil.

“What is it, err… Greg, wasn’t it?”

“Gary. The body’s been prepped.”