February 15, 2013 - 7:41
An accidental death was committed by my compatriot: a deviant, erotic engagement gone awry; and though I had nothing to do with it, I was asked to guard, with my life, a harvested piece of the deceased.
This friend had a maniacal attachment to the accidental victim--in fact he seemed like a generalized psychopath, a la unhinged undercover cop--so I accepted it primarily out of fear.
It was a brain stem in a recycled cottage cheese container. I tucked it away in my purse while questions were asked by officials, but the problem was that the lid was unfitted to the tub. It sloshed and spilled around in my purse, and when I finally escaped to the bathroom to readjust the container, I examined the contents. I was repulsed, but clinically tried to deduce whether the stem was male or female, as my cohort was notoriously bisexual.
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