Party to Die for

SYNOPSIS: A man relives the occurrences of a party that was quite unlike any party you, the reader, has probably ever been too. 

I sat in the cold, dark interrogation room at the local police station, my breath being visible before me as I exhaled. My back was drenched in sweat, my hands timidly moving before me on the frozen metal table. The lights were suddenly switched on as I leapt back in my seat.
The door opposite opened, a man in a plaid suit which appeared to be cutting circulation off from his brain entering the room, cradling a file in one hand and coffee in the other. He had jet black hair that was greased back across his head with eyes that were just as black and sinister. He looked more like a criminal mastermind than a law enforcement officer. He sat before me, dropping the files onto the table whilst fixing up his tie with his now free hand, taking a terrific gulp of coffee immediately after doing so.
‘Mr. Henderson’ he said in a raspy voice, ‘I am detective Lachlan Mitchell. I’ve been assigned to this case because of its distinct peculiarity. I’ve looked over all of the information and I must say, it doesn’t look good for you son, nor for the two chuckleheads I have placed in other rooms just like this one. So before I slap the cuffs on you I would like you to explain to me in your own words what happened two nights ago.’
I tilted my head backwards, taking a deep gulp of air whilst rubbing my eyes, before beginning to divulge the events which had taken place.

I had drawn the short straw. That was why I found myself in the mortuary on the night of my best friend’s birthday. Andrew and Michael were sitting patiently out front in Andrew’s Mustang, smoke billowing out from the exhaust, Michael advising they keep the engine running in case they had to bolt.
I crept timidly down the halls of the mortuary which was located a few metres adjacent to the medical facility. Darkness surrounded me around every corner, my mind concocting scenarios of security being around every turn. Michael had made schematics of the entire building from his night shift at the hospital, the map in front of me not only being incredibly small, but being terribly difficult to read under the dim light of the torch I grasped in my other hand.
On the walls were numerous rooms that were locked, a door with a pane of glass located in front of each which cast eerie shadows across the interior of the complex as my torch connected with such secured areas.
I swung open a door before me and found myself in the lab where the bodies were to be prepped for the funeral arrangements. A putrid odour of death and decay hit me like a tonne of bricks as I stumbled backwards from the killer stench, attempting to hold my breath. In front of me in the centre of the room was a metallic table that shone brightly as though it had been kept pristine over the years. A body, who I presumed to be deceased, was placed atop of it, wrapped in a white cloth that extended across the entire body. The shape of the human form, which I presumed to be male, was all that could be made out. And all I honestly wanted to make out.
A stand made from the same metallic alloy was placed on the left side of the table, with numerous locked drawers located upon its lower most sections.
The walls were a dark blue in colour, with window panes located upon the ceiling, the full moon being visible up in the sky above. Across the walls were posters advertising different medical procedures and the ways a corpse was to be prepared, such things making a shudder travel up and down my spine.
Drawers where the deceased were kept were located on the wall, my hands reaching out and quickly beginning to drag them open one by one. I must have opened up seven, each of them either being empty or filled with some person who died in an incredibly insidious way, before I managed to discover the one which held my best friend; Warrick Childs.
He looked quite peaceful under the torch light, for a dead guy I mean. I’d being half expecting his guts to be hanging out of him like undigested offerings that a bunch of carnivorous hounds would have left behind after digging into him.
He had bright orange hair that looked rather untidy, yet considerably pristine. His green eyes were closed and he had numerous freckles located across his cheeks.
I slowly began to move him out from his confinement, his body crumpling to the floor at my feet as I closed the creaking drawer which clicked into place.
I suddenly felt Warrick’s hand shoot out and grab my leg, my body nearly falling backwards in fright, my torch darting around the room before I came to my senses, realising it had been the cat in the corner which had touched me, the creature of the night hissing from its hiding place. I shook my head before slowly picking up Warrick’s body and swinging it over my shoulder, my legs buckling beneath me under his dead weight as I made my way towards the door.
Just at that exact moment when I was about to make my fantastical get away (if I must say so myself) after implementing the perfect crime, I heard the creaking of one of the cabinets sliding open. Turning my head, I noticed the body of a near naked woman hanging out from the long line of cabinets, my eyes rolling into the back of my head as I gently placed Warrick onto the operating table atop of the other corpse.
‘Don’t mind me’ I said, hoping that neither of the corpses were at all homophobic.
I hurried over to the open cabinet and attempted to slide it back into place, the prosthetic breasts of the young woman’s deceased corpse preventing it from property sliding back in. Every time the head and neck of the young woman made their way inside the confines of the cabinet I felt a sense of joy. That was of course before the exterior of the cabinet connected with the huge breasts which bounced it backwards, many times the drawer nearly colliding with my crown jewels. The woman’s breasts themselves were like two cannons sticking out from the side of a pirate’s vessel, bouncing up and down in place. If that was not bad enough they were so lusciously beautiful I found them almost impossible to resist, just wanting to grab a hold of the gorgeous creatures to see how they felt. Such a job must have cost several hundred thousand dollars and were deliberately placed there to be admired and groomed, not to be left to rot in the drawer within a mortuary for Chrissake.
I took a deep breath, attempting to keep my mind on the problem at hand. If the doctors came back down here and saw the body outside from her home then they would certainly know without a doubt that there had been a grave robbery. I jerked and jabbed with the cabinet, the body rocking all over the place as though it were listening to Whitney Houston’s Greatest Hits collection. Finally, after a sickening squelching sound issued forth from the cabinet’s interior the body was rammed successfully back inside.
I breathed a sigh of relief, rubbing my hand over my sweaty forehead, before grabbing Warrick’s body off from the table, grunting in agony as I did so before hurrying out of the mortuary with his head banging up against my back like a drum.
Reaching the car, I dumped Warrick’s body into the trunk, hurrying into the back seat as Andrew revved up the engine.
‘Okay boys; let’s go have ourselves a party!’ I cried, the car flying into the distance, the rest of the night after that being nothing more than a blur.

The detective nodded his head as I concluded the story, before pulling out a laptop buried beneath the files he had brought in with him. He opened the computerised device, which was already on line to an internet site which had aired coverage from the night of the party.
Before me was streamed a film of Andrew, Michael and I at a table, with our deceased friend Warrick located directly in the centre.
Michael had skin that was heavily tanned, his hair being a pitch black in colour that was cut incredibly short. He wore a dark blue shirt with stripes of a white colour going horizontally down the front.
Andrew had blonde coloured hair that was raised high up on the left side of his head but lower down on the right. His eyes were a blue colour and he had a devilish smile about him, a light blue shirt placed across his chest.
Warrick on the other hand we had managed to shove into an orange and blue shirt that was comprised of stripes going vertically across the fabric, with white trousers located on his legs. A party hat was perched atop his head which was continuously tilting forward, his body unable to remain upright for long.
We each chugged down a few beers before emptying a number of overloaded glasses down Warrick’s cold, dead throat, cheering after such an accomplishment had being successfully orchestrated by our dead friend. A great amount of the alcoholic fluid dribbled across the shirt we had applied over the white gown the mortuary staff had tied around Warrick’s body to hide his genitalia.
Andrew suddenly moved out from the camera frame, before placing a giant mud cake in the centre of the table. ‘Make a wish!’ he cried to Warrick, who tilted his head to the side before collapsing on top of the table, the cake splattering into a few thousand pieces beneath him.
‘This went on for some time’ noted the detective, fast forwarding the image. ‘Then we get to this disturbing scene’ he said, clicking the play reticule, the video beginning to continue once more. A woman dressed in a sleazy black outfit stepped on top of the table, beginning to do a rather sexualised dance in front of Warrick. Her hair was curled into some kind of afro, her eyes sparkling like glitter in the night. The only clothing she had on her person was a black bra and panties with a couple of notes thrust into the side of the threads. Her breasts reminded me a lot of those that belonged to the woman I had managed to ram back inside the cabinets at the mortuary. ‘You’re one year older big boy!’ she cried in a high pitched voice, moving herself on top of Warrick and wrapping her legs around his body. She grabbed his crotch before crying ‘whoa, your penis is so hard and erect, like a cadaver!’ Warrick’s head suddenly titled onto her chest as she purred, grabbing hold of his head and thrusting his nose deep inside of her cleavage as to allow him to get a better look, appearing not to notice the current predicament he was in.
The detective suddenly turned off the video, his face conveying an element of shock as I sat speechless before him. ‘I am glad to say that we did locate his body’ noted the detective after taking a short breath. ‘It was found outside of a park on Rockchester Avenue, nearly twelve kilometres from your place of residence, which according to the video and the forensic evidence taken by the police officers was where the party ensued. Some of that same evidence was located at the mortuary which we’ve linked to your DNA, presumably sweat’
‘Well if you found his body, shouldn’t you perhaps let me off with a warning?’ I questioned.
‘I said we found his body’ grunted the detective. ‘It was decapitated.’
I raised an eyebrow at such a statement.
‘It took us a further nine hours to find his head’ commented the detective. ‘It was located fifteen kilometres east of his body, in a football field between two goal posts. What it was doing there is beyond me, but I doubt he was there to watch the big game.’
I went to speak but the detective quickly cut me off. ‘You would be pleased to know that we attached the head to the body, all in time for the funeral which was held late yesterday afternoon instead of the initial scheduling which had been booked for the morning, for obvious reasons which I doubt I will have to explain.’
‘Well, I guess everything sorted itself out in the end’ I said.
‘However’ said the detective, quickly cutting me off once again, ‘there’s more. We later discovered alcohol in the deceased’s system, apparently planted there after his body had been abducted. This was found after the funeral. It appears the embalming fluid and the alcohol mixed together in the stomach of your friend and caused a chemical reaction, which further caused his entire stomach to explode during the funeral precession. His body was blown into a thousand pieces and scattered across the entire chapel, his head coming to rest in the lap of his poor mother, Daniela Childs, who unfortunately died of complications to the heart at the scene.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that’ I said with a stutter.
‘Okay, now let’s go through the list of wrongs you and your gang have successfully orchestrated thus far’ began the detective, counting them off on his fingers. ‘We have breaking and entering; public mutilation to the deceased; some sexually explicit actions which I am proud to say I did not air to you this evening; public drunkenness; destruction of property; littering; attempted vandalism; successful vandalism; reckless driving under the influence of alcohol, among other substances which stripper Lucky Lucy has attested to providing you and your happy team members. Along with this she admitted to the performing of numerous erotic and illegal actions which the five of you were involved in for a number of hours. We have mortuary theft; attempted grand theft auto; vicious slander towards strangers who wish to remain anonymous; urination in a public place; the unintentional murder of sweet Miss Daniela Childs and the desecration of the deceased. Both Mr. Warrick Childs and Miss. Hilary Watson, whose cadaver was found crushed inside her assigned cabinet within the mortuary, her body, apart from being beyond recognition also appearing to be coated in the same gel found in prosthetic body parts, breasts for example?’ he noted with a raised eyebrow.
I tilted my head to the side, having absolutely nothing to say for myself.
‘I guess what I would like to ultimately know is why throw a party for a dead man?’ continued the detective. ‘It seems a little redundant if you ask me, but then again I’ve always considered myself to be quite the normal individual, I don’t get off on all the fiendish and satanic mumbo jumbo you and your gang orchestrated on the night of these viciously vulgar occurrences. What? Haven’t you anything to say for yourself?’ he probed as I shook my head, the detective beginning to stand to his feet. ‘I’ll be back in a while after I’ve interrogated the other culprits involved in this orgy of insidious criminal activity.’
‘But, you can’t leave me in here!’ I crowed as the detective reached the door, ‘what if I catch my death of cold?’
‘Not on your life’ grunted the detective, the lights dimming as the door closed behind him.



About totalovrdose

I am an online journalist, video game reviewer, mental health advocate and post graduate university student. I am a massive video gaming geek; a lover of intellectual conversations; an award winning procrastinator; a devilishly charming nuisance and the definition of 'fun' (sometimes). My blog is filled with many a soporific love poem, and is simply the beginning in my quest to become a published author. Please stop by and say 'Hi!' (that rhymes!) :D

Posted on June 4, 2012, in Short Story and tagged , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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