Cadavers mine

My Cadavers by J.B. Pravda

"What the Hell was that?" Shenker blurted, the volume of his own voice
bringing him back to the realization that he was alone&;#8230;..but,
wasn't that the issue?

Graveyard shift, the bane of struggling medical students; his path was
pathology, hence this 'honor.'

His ears had reported 'Why!' to his weary brain, which could only
compute the classic 'Y' incision, ultimate tatoo of the cadaver----yes,
that was it, resonance from the morbid mark of his future
livelihood.

"&;#8230;&;#8230;Whyyyyyyyyyy&;#8230;&;#8230;(sobbing)",
again, this time from freezer drawer #34.

He knew his course: open the drawer, or forever be haunted by the
countless crooning cadavers of the
future&;#8230;&;#8230;&;#8230;slowly, he tugged on the handle,
almost feeling the pulse&;#8230;..of the ball-bearings on their
tracks, making what used to be 170+ pounds of vital organic life seem
weightless.

As he neared the toes of the enshrouded corpse, he fell jelly-kneed to
the ground, trembling&;#8230;..as his co-worker, Mary Modrian sat
up, breasts revealing, in lipstick the word "WHY".

Hearing her high-pitched laughter, he knew he had been duly
initiated.