Cold hard poo.

I haven’t really but I’m watching The Beach and DiCaprio’s putting up with it so I thought I’d Mind-Mime along with him.

Anyway, as I promised, back to my encounter of the morbid obsessive kind.

The bag is just sitting there.
It’s stopped moving and I’m the only one breathing hard for it’s negative vibe. Everyone else might aswell have seen an ice cream truck on a hot day.
I didn’t know what to think at that point and I certainly didn’t know or want to know the thing I should say that would most fit in. To be honest, I just got a shiver and carried on. I don’t think I’d thought enough, before hand, to know what I should be shocked by at that point. Phone man spots the shiver, turns and gives me a wide-eyed ear-to-ear smile and we carry on. Disapointed ? I was, with myself. Nevermind.

Now, the opening is where I shit myself.
There was no careful procedure. Another thing I’d never really considered. They like dead things and the process that goes into it. Not only do they not care if they cut it but they really don’t mind at all if it had a gash up from it’s eye to it’s eye. They had certainly changed at that point to being those people. Even the couple who I’d only sort of looked on as a nudist beach couple were now vampire rapists sitting there salivating like a horror movie waiting to happen. It got dark.

On goes the U.V.
This happened for safety reasons. They worry that it’s not completely ‘gone’ and so they have to check what’s really going on from an initial visual perspective straight away. God knows what they do to get a hold of it in the first place but fuck knows I’d be sure it was pretty damn ‘gone’ before bagging it. This doesn’t take long and the lights are all back up. It must look strange from ouside the church hall, like some kind of late-night tanning session in the vestry.

Another thing I should note.
I’ve seen horror movies and fake blood but the only first-hand blood event I’ve witnessed, before this, is my own nose bleeding and minor cuts. Nose blood just looks like a drop of tomatoe juice and feels nothing more than a leak, like urinating, it just goes out of you because it does and that’s how you work. Even if you cut yourself, you don’t see the loss of the red liquid as anything more than a threat of staining or minor inconveniance. Not until you see something yellow and blue in it’s face because of it’s sad lack of blood and you find yourself surrounded by the swarm of smells eminating because of ambient heat.

The story sadly ends.
Well, I say sadly, I was hoping something would have happened to get in the way of me and the bag lady.

The thing that happened was the police, I’m assuming. We all got rushed out by the couple who seemed quite prepared and were packed up and standing first. I was told when the next get-together was, a meeting of around 2000 similar people in a jamberee style camping event. All very blurry and quite frightening. I don’t think I’ll be back in touch with them eveer again and don’t plan to look any further into this subject.

Oh well there ends my story. More next time etc