North Country Morgue Is Holding Out for a Hero Repairman

NORTH COUNTRY MORGUE – The North Country Morgue, on the spout of multiple erroneous areas, sought repairmen to send off sparks again, go with the plumbing flow, and chill out a bit in the coolers.

It is no wonder that the morgue experiences fatigue on a daily basis, considering nearly all the equipment is older than Karl himself, who says he is only 31 years old but has the brain of an elderly old man with dementia and Alzheimer’s. No, this is not an act of disrespect but rather the truth, for the symptoms all all there. Not to mention he has the body of a well-embellished Christmas tree – take one ornament off, and the whole tree collapses.

Karl on the matter said, “Everything was fine over the weekend, but I came in this morning, and all was in… what’s the word? It’s like-” he paused for a breath “-not orderly… or in full?”

“Do you mean ‘disarray’?” came a voice from somewhere in the midst of the office, though no one could pinpoint exactly where or who it came from.

“Yes! That is the word! It’s like going through a doorway – you say what you’re going to do over and over, and then you pass through as if you’re a new man: completely and utterly unknowledgeable.”

“Well, you can’t keep the fire lit without some sort of fuel,” Paul Gliff stated on the spark issue, holding a canister of what seemed to be heating oil. “Otherwise, you’re running on dangerous fumes that can cause respiratory problems and other serious issues if not addressed quickly. And obviously, no heat will be generated as any oil-heated sources will just blurt out, ‘Hey, somebody give me something to drink! I’m thirsty over here!'”

Karl responded, “I did wonder what my employees were trying to tell me. I’m used to Arlo slapping his hands together to tell me something, almost as if he’s making the motion of trying to get it through my head…”

Aside, Arlo commented, “It’s literally the only way to communicate with him. And hope something gets done about it. And… I’m shy, too. So it makes me feel more confident in what I have to say.” He coughed. “But I wasn’t the one who mentioned to fuel.”

Haslia whipped her hair behind her and said, “I have a lot of demands, but they don’t always get met, and so I feel like trash because my opinions don’t matter. Though – I can say with great confidence – it is because of me and Arlo that this morgue is still standing. Because we want to make it a comfy place for the dead” – she clutched her scissors -“but soon Karl if he isn’t careful.”

A water-drenched man emerged from the bathroom with pliers the size of a full-grown jaguar in his hands.

“For water to flow, you need water. Your toilets here can’t fill back up with the absolute worst water pressure I’ve ever seen in my 40 years of operation.”

The man, who we could now see was Kenny Uncouth from his crinkled name tag, laughed and said, “A disgrace to the aquatic community. I’d have better experience in a drought than this forsaken place. ‘Cause to me, no one cares a wit about this place. So really, why should I?”

“See? He-” Haslia openly yet discreetly pointed at Karl “-makes us look foolish. And as me and Arlo are the ones who basically run the place – yes, everyone else gets credit, too, but we have to go behind them if they’ve already left for the day – and babysit some of our very own co-workers.”

The third repairman, as frigid as glacier air, stepped up the plate. A Katie Bullocks.

“Mr. Karl,” she began in her rather hoarse voice unlike the smoothness of the waters of the coolers she worked with, “I must say that you don’t take good care of anything here. Every single cooler managed to have a leak, overflow, and run out of compressor fluid all at once. And I’ve never before seen that in my 25 years of service.”

Katie pointed a finger at him. “Shame on you for your dishonor to this community who needs peace after their hearts have been broken. You only seek pleasure for yourself and not another soul. I’m embarrassed for everyone who must toil under your dictatorship.

“Haslia, Arlo, I commend you a service well done, and keep up the good work.” She motioned toward Karl. “And keep your eye on him. I suspect he’s up to no good at this very moment.”

Karl did not say another audible word but furrowed his brows.

“Pay, pay, pay. All our money is going out the door because we can’t maintain this place,” Beverly said. “I’m tired of writing out checks to these hags who don’t even cash them in until months later… At which point, I should just void them! Ha ha!”

The three repairmen left the morgue with a questionable Karl, an ardent Arlo, and a haggard Haslia, the latter two wondering the occurrence of the next event.