Rubble and Sweetie stood outside the morgue smoking cigarettes. They finished and back it inside, Rubble walked over to the wall where the places for the dead were, and pulled out a beer from one of the lockers.
- Seriously? She asked.
- What? It's colder in these things than in refrigerators.
Boss once caught him hiding Cola there and made a fuss, I think he even measured his salary in that month
While Rubble thought she was getting 5 out of 10 on the sick humor scale, former morgue worker, Malshall, was 11.
He could hide in the body compartment, turn off the light with the remote control, and open the compartment with a shrill scream. Rubble pissed in his pants .
As for Malshall, he was in the body closet now, a heart attack, a nasty death.
She opened one chamber but he was not there, he opened another and another, Rubble aged that he couldn't be fooled, but when she opened the last one, it mometically closed.
- Maybe he went to the toilet. Rubble's joke sounded special ... Uncertain.
- How the fuck, can lose, a dead body? She asked.
- Wait, the boss was here in front of us. Maybe he hid it?
- Where? She asked and her eyes, as if of her own free will, moved to the table for the dead, or more precisely to the hiding place under it.
They opened a cupboard and a dead hand fell out of it, stepped back, cursed, and laughed.
Rubble went outside to light a cigarette and Sweetie sat down on the table, now that the tension had eased, she wanted to sleep. Her phone rang, it was their boss.
- Yes? She asked
- Rubble's pissing? She giggled.
- No.
- We gotta oil this cold room door sometime, it squeaks terribly. She froze
- Coolers?
- Yes? After all, I hid it in a cold store.
She felt an icy hand grab her ankle ...