INT. LANE'S APARTMENT - NIGHT
LANE (V.O.) Dad became more reclusive. Paranoid.
Lane enters the living room carrying a laundry basket. She puts it down on a table and begins to fold the clothes.
She watches Rushton sit in front of the flickering TV set. He lights up two cigarettes. He has bags of ice cubes under his feet and both arms.
LANE (V.O.) He started smoking - thinking the formaldehyde in the tobacco was good for him.
INT. FUNERAL HOME MORTUARY - NIGHT
Rushton lies on the embalming table. Bottles of chemicals litter the shelf beside him. They are labelled: "SuperFormaldehyde", "Draino for the Dead", "Chanel No. 0", "Up and At 'Em - anti-mort Potion".
Lane fills a syringe from a bottle labelled "McDonald's Secret Sauce".LANE (V.O.)In the days that followed, frustration and anger overtook him. Lane pokes the needle into her father's neck. Rushton goes into a rage, slamming his fist down on the metal table.
RUSHTON: No!!
Lane stops and quakes with fear
RUSHTON: You didn't hit the artery! Stupid bitch!
LANE: (Frantically) Your arteries are collapsing. Maybe an angioplasty with saline...
RUSHTON: My arteries are good, you're the problem!
He snatches the syringe from Lane and pushes her away. She bumps into a table sending metal bowel and instruments flying everywhere.
RUSHTON: You want me to rot? You'd like that, wouldn't you!
LANE: Daddy! It's going to be okay. We can talk this through - we'll go out for milk shakes!
RUSHTON: Milkshakes! When you know I'm lactose intolerant!
Mortified, Lane runs out of the mortuary crying.
Rushton feels for his artery then jabs the needle into his neck and injects himself. After a few seconds, he looks at himself in a mirror. The injection gives him a rush and he smiles manically.
INT. VIDEO STUDIO - SAME
Lane blows cigarette smoke and falls silent at the memory she just revealed. Tears run down her face. Even the Floor Director is crying. He dabs his tears with a tissue and offers Lane one from a box.
Jessop rolls his eyes and pushes the Director away.
LANE: I need a break.
JESSOP: We have too much to talk about. Get her a wet towel.
The Floor Director turns up his nose but stomps off to get it. Lane puts another cigarette in her mouth. The Floor Director hands Lane a wet towel. Jessop looks at his watch impatiently as Lane swabs her neck, dabs her armpits, and then blows her nose into the towel. The Floor Director winces, holds his breath and carries off the badly soiled wash towel.
Jessop picks up a fanny pack from the floor. He pulls out an instrument that looks like an electric hair trimmer. He throws the tool on the table beside Lane.
JESSOP: Recognize that?
LANE: I never saw it before.
Jessop picks it up.
JESSOP: It's called a Dermatone. Battery operated.
He turns the device on. It hums and razors spin.
JESSOP: It planes away nice, neat ribbons of skin from a donor. A skilled doctor - or mortician - can suture this skin onto a body. Flick the switch and the blades cut deeper - into the dermis of the donor. This layer is rich with nerve fibres, sensory receptors, and lymph vessels. Fresh dermal tissue that is alive.
YOU ARE READING
Came Upon Some Bodies Rotting
HumorWhen her deceased father walks away from the embalming table and starts killing people for body parts, a funeral director has to overcome her insecurities and personal demons to put her dad back in his place and find a new life among the walking dea...
