Al 'Doc' Robbins stopped by the entrance to the morgue. He knew, as always exactly what he would find in there. He opened the door and stepped into the chamber, the size of a regulation football field. His assistant approached him.
"How many do we have today, SuperDave?"
The dark haired man consulted a sheaf of papers. Um, fifty nine, today," He reported.
"Is that all?" Doc asked. "Have all the collectors come in?"
"The last one just dropped off." Dave replied.
"Well, then. Let's get to work. We'll be done by lunchtime."
The DB's, as Forensics and the Coroner called the bodies, were lined up in rows, as each Dead Collector brought in his load. "Okay, so these twelve are from James of Keswick," Dave began.
Doc walked along the row. Cause of death in the Middle Ages was quite easy to determine. "Hmm... Plague, plague, plague..." He rattled off the list until the first group was done. He moved on, Dave telling him which Collector brought in the next group.
"These last few are from Robin of Mersia," Dave said.
"Excellent! Let's have at 'em." He peered at each DB.
"By the way," Dave mentioned. "We're going to need an new Collector for Mersia. Robin's gone to Camelot to be a Knight."
"Well good luck with that. So, we have... Plague, plague, plague, blunt force trauma, plague, pl..."
"Wait a minute,"Dave stopped him. "Blunt force trauma?"
Al turned back. "That is strange, yes. You can see two places where he was hit in the head."
"But still," Dave pointed out. "He does have signs of plague on him, too."
"True," Doc allowed. "He would have died anyway. Well, shall we call it a day?" The two men started to leave.
"I'm not quite dead yet," A voice called them back.
Doc returned to the table."What are you doing here?" He demanded. "These tables are for dead people."
"That's what I've been trying to tell them. I'm not dead yet."
"Listen," Doc explained. "You have plague, you were hit twice in the head. How can you not be dead?"
"I'm feeling much better."
"Oh, you're feeling much better, are you?" The coroner mocked. "Well, that's just great. "Do you realize the paperwork you just caused me? I'll be here all day, writing this up. Maybe in a thousand years, when computers are invented, work will be simpler, but I need to sharpen a quill, find a monk to copy it out. There goes my afternoon."
"I'm sorry, but they were in a hurry to get rid of me."
"I don't need excuses, I need..."
CLANGGGGG! The young man fell to the floor, as Dave stood over him with a tray. "I think I snapped his neck," He noted.
"So you did," Doc agreed. "Lunch?"
"Let's." The two men walked out of the room, neither of them hearing the protests from the mangled body.
"I'm not quite dead yet."