Thursday, December 9, 2010

How I Learned To Do Chair Massages Part 13

Morgue Story Continued

We totally lost it, of course. When we figured out we couldn’t break down the door, the guys started screaming at me, “Do something! You’re the cop, shoot it! Shoot it!” And I screamed back at them, “You’re the medical people and you’re stronger than I am, do something! Hit it! Hit it!” Fortunately, it laid down by itself and the door opened, because I don’t like to think what we would have done if it hadn’t. We basically tumbled out of that elevator, and stood gasping for breath in the hallway, trying not to lose our dinners. It was a good thing the elevator had an automatic door stop, because at that point, we would have let that sucker go to whichever floor it wanted to go. 

We seriously debated going back to the emergency room, (by a different route) and getting somebody else to put it in the cooler, but we all knew we’d never be able to live it down if we did. So, we covered the body back up and strapped the chest down with a gurney belt, (something that should have been done before we left.) Then I pulled out my heavy flashlight, which can also be used as a billy club when needed, unlocked the morgue door and reached inside to turn on the light, telling myself the whole time, “You have to do this, you have to do this. Come on, you’re the brave one, just get it done.” As long as I kept telling myself that I was the brave one, that I had a gun and a billy club, and that I was responsible for the safety of the entire hospital, I was okay, and the boys seemed to gather their bravery from listening to me.   

So, one of them opened the cooler door while I stood by with my billy club ready to hit any stray zombies who might be lurking inside, the other one pushed the gurney inside, then we all ran like hell and got halfway down the hallway before one of us shouted, “Wait, we gotta lock the door and somebody has to sign the certificate!” We sounded like a bunch of ten year old kids. I told them, “I unlocked the door and had to turn on the light! You get in there and sign that paper! It’ll take you ten seconds!” They tried to tell me, “You’re the cop, you have the gun, and you’re supposed to be protecting us!” “Don’t you give me crap about protecting you!  We’re not talking about an armed criminal here!” 

Finally I said, “Okay, okay. Wait a minute. We will all go back, we’ll all sign the paper, and we will all lock the door, agreed?” “Agreed.”  So we walked back in a tight pack, like something out of the Three Stooges, did what we had to do, then ran all the way back to the emergency room, using the stairs. I know we forgot to turn the lights off, because the pathologist bawled me out for leaving them on all weekend when he saw me in the cafeteria on Monday. He must be a pretty old man by now, and my bet is; he’s still laughing about that story.

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