[...] Mom’s not keeping me out because it’s a dead friend, she’s keeping me out because it’s a dead sixteen-year-old girl with no clothes on’
‘And that’s officially the creepiest thing you’ve ever said,’ said Lauren. She stopped typing, and then grimaced and shivered, like she’d just eaten something disgusting. ‘Seriously – yuck.’
I smiled. ‘I’ve got a live girlfriend – what do I need a dead one for?’
[…]
Lauren folded her arms. ‘How do I know you’re not just trying to get her out of the house for your own nefarious purposes?’
I smiled. ‘What kind of trouble am I going to get into? The dead girl doesn’t get here until tomorrow.
Tags: jokes john sister necrophilia dead-body
It takes me a while to drag him out, he's got himself stuck to the axle, and by the time I am done and stand over the body something strange has started to happen. The alley's filled with a half-dozen cats, runty little things with their ribs showing and their tails worn high like they're pointing to the moon. I stand there, breathing froth into the snowflakes and watch them gather round me, soft kitty paws, and now and then a patrol car rolls past in the distance. The cats are circling us, tails cocked at the moon, their muzzles bloodied by the tail lights' glow. They are vicious bastards, let me tell you: frost on their whiskers, eyes like cut glass, a half-dozen pairs, on me and the dead man. And then they start licking. Licking at the snow I mean, the blood in the snow, they lap it up like mother's milk. And all the while from their throats, from their whole bodies, there issues this sound, you hear it with your skin, it's like an engine running under your palm. That's when I realize they are purring, man, purring as they feed on the midget's death.
Dan VyletaHow good it is, when you have roast meat or suchlike foods before you, to impress on your mind that this is the dead body of a fish, this the dead body of a bird or pig.
Marcus AureliusTags: reality food meat eating mindfulness clarity dead-body reductive-analysis
The full moon cast an eerie glow through thick ancient dark woods. In the shadows around a tree, the serial killer ran his knife lovingly over Chelsea’s trussed dead body. She lay, as if posed for a photo, wearing only bloody pink underpants.
H Raven RoseTags: serial-killer full-moon dead-body dark-eros
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