When she wasn’t working for Neenaw or Momma, Bea Honeycupp would sometimes help out Billie Apple at Goodman’s Funeral Home beautifying corpses or sitting up at night with a dead body in a casket before it went on view the next day. From time to time, Bea would lift the lid to make sure everything was as it should be, that a cat or some other uninvited creature hadn’t found it’s way inside and chewed off a nose or ear or given birth to a litter of future nose-eaters.
Where I’m from, all bodies are expected to be displayed for everyone to see with the lid open and when they’re not, it’s considered bad form even if the person has been tragically mauled in a car accident and nearly decapitated. In those cases, Billie Apple would have to reconstruct the person’s head, face and neck. According to Bea, most people looked ready for a night out on the town after Miss Billie got a hold of them. Billie explained it was God’s will that she give the family a better memory.
My brother informed me Billie Apple was well known in the undertaking industry for her creation of natural and pleasing smiles on cadavers and that she had received a framed certificate with an official red ribbon and gold stamp attached, documenting that fact. He had seen it in the embalming room, during his visit there, while doing a science fair project on death. The title of his paper was “I’ll Die Tomorrow,” which was inspired by the Susan Hayward film, “I’ll Cry Tomorrow” that we had seen at least a dozen times on Dialing for Dollars. Brother copied the words printed on the certificate of distinction and put it in his report.
“Miss Billie Apple is certified by the Louisiana Funeral Service Board as an expert in the creation of post-mortem human facial expressions, especially those involving the zygomatic major muscle resulting in a non-Duchene smile.” Then he added, “Not to be confused with a Danke Schoen or non-Danke Schoen smile, which Wayne Newton may or may not use when he sings his hit single by the same name.”
Pinned to the wall next to the certificate in the embalming room were photographs of Billie’s best work. Those pictures were not displayed in her portfolio for regular clients to see as they might have found them too disturbing. Brother wasn’t supposed to mention the content of the photos to anybody, but he just couldn’t stand passing up the opportunity to terrorize me with a gory, detailed account.
“I am not at liberty to divulge any facts regarding the images, but since you are my brother, despite being voted most annoying sibling in the world, I’ll give you a few hints about one blood curdling scene. People usually vomit a lot then fall out on the floor writhing about in horror when they hear what I’m about to hint to you. This true and verifiable story is, without a doubt, the gruesomest one you’ve ever heard in your life. “
“On the wall next to where Billie drains the blood out of dead people and pumps them full of formaldehyde til their eyes pop out, there’s a picture of Siamese twins, two women, who were connected by a hump at birth. It wasn’t until their college years when booze and men came between them. Night after night the goody two-shoes twin put up with the tawdry, good-for-nothing sister bringing home strange gentlemen for unmentionable activities. It was in the midst of one such amorous bedspring-squeaking, headboard-banging, carrying-on episode that Goody Two-Shoes went crazy out of her mind, picked up a nearby meat cleaver and began hacking violently at the hump where she and her sister were joined. If I told you about the chunks of bloody, jagged flesh and chopped off this and that and teeth dangling by strands of human tissue from a jawbone you would be haunted by recurring nightmares til your dying day, but, of course, I’m not allowed to disclose that information to anybody or the true reason for the murderous attack except to say it was the fault of a visiting gentleman, who had been afflicted by a case of who-ha slippage.”
“What’s that?”
“His instrument of desire had abruptly taken leave from one who-ha and interloped into the other just inches away, eight or nine times by accident. In the end, both of the sisters ended up dead, lying on the carpet soaked in a gruesome mess, half apart, but embracing. Miss Billie finished cutting them in two with a chain saw and put each in her own coffin. Their tombstone read, ‘Joined at birth, separated by death,’ but that’s in another photo I can’t mention.”
“What happened to the man with the instrument?”
“He was charged with “who-ha interloping without consent” and executed by a firing squad for his crimes. I can’t give you any more hints than that. It would be illegal and immoral both. You’ll have to connect the dots yourself and if you ever tell anybody I provided you with all this information, I’ll put a dozen scorpions in your bed.”
That assured my cooperation immediately. Hardly any other punishment was worse than that, even getting shot by a firing squad for who-ha interloping. You could say a lot of things about Brother, but he sure was a gifted hinter, which is a nice name for a flat out maker-upper.
(To be continued.)
Was it as raw as the story?
Great reading whilst eating sushi 😵💫