So, my cousin (who I’m very close with), worked in a nursing home, and realized a few months back that they didn’t follow the proper procedures for disposing of biological waste (human waste, blood taken, etc.) Rather than contacting god-knows-who, getting them shut down and making himself essentially unemployable, he decided to take advantage of the situation (btw, he’s a big dumpster diver in his spare time - even been arrested a couple of times), and so he started stealing vials of blood. Now, I’m not too clear on why he started doing this. So far as I know, he just got bored and started stealing bottles of blood. Anyway, so he called me up one night and asked what to do with half a gallon of human blood. Eventually, we decided to put it in a big ultra-thin latex condom, mix in some soap and insecticide, and hang it from the patio next to a bright light. Worked wonders. Next day, dozens of dead mosquitoes all over the porch.
We probably should have switched to pigs blood at that point, but we weren’t sure where to get any, so we basically said ‘fuck it, don’t fix what ain’t broken’. It kind of became a competition after that - who could get the most blood. Then, about three months later, he came home with about a gallon and a half of human blood, which was about as much as we normally collected in two weeks or so.
Needless to say, I asked where he’d got it. After explaining that he had not, in fact, killed anyone, he told me that he’d found out that they didn’t guard the bodies of the recently deceased. He took me with him the next day, and showed me. The system we ended up working out was as so: the night watchman never came to the… morgue room, I guess? Creeped him out. So, my cousin would come in during business hours, find out which bodies were likely to have an autopsy. After closing time, the two of us would take the others, run a rope over some pipes on the ceiling, and haul the corpses up by their ankles. Then, he’d inject them with an anti-coagulant, use a cattleprod on them a few times to get the stuff distributed, and then stick a pocket knife in their jugular vein. I shoved a bucket under them to collect the drippings. Now, at this point, we had about, oh, fifty gallons of blood in mostly-used condoms hanging up around my front porch, and the neighbors were starting to comment. I ended up putting paper bags over them and claiming they were part of my religion. Didn’t seem to decrease the effectiveness any.
Now, this went on for longer than I’d care to admit. I guess we got careless. Now, you have to understand that this nursing home was grossly understaffed. They’d been having financial issues, had laid off a bunch of staff, and really were not equipped to deal with the narcoleptics, the alcoholics, or the plain old alzheimers cases. So that may explain why I don’t recommend this method of pest control. So, there we were. We’d done this maybe six times before. We were feeling pretty good about it. We swaggered in through the bad lock on the cafeteria door, he used his keys to get us to the morgue room. We grabbed the first corpse, strung it up, drained it, no problems. Grabbed the next one. He wore gloves, tied up the feet, I threw the line over, hauled him up there. We took the gowns off first to avoid blood stains. Now, this was an old man, so his flaccid manhood was bouncing around at belly level. I kid you not, he was hung like a horse. He could have given a horse intestinal tears. I very nearly threw up.
So, as we tied him up, he got an erection. Wasn’t the first time one of the old farts had popped a stiffy (it’s actually pretty common for the first day or so after death), so we just tried to ignore it, avoid getting smacked in the face with it, and avoid making any kind of eye contact. We hit him with the anticoagulant, zapped him a couple of times with the cattleprod, and then sat back to let the stuff work. After maybe three minutes, my cousin gets up and stabs him very casually in the throat.
Now, to this day, I have no idea what the fuck happened. My best guess is, a senile old guy forgot where his room was and lay down on one of the tables. The cattleprod must have knocked him out, and the stab wound woken him up. Whatever actually happened, what we ended up with was a screaming, naked old guy, boner flapping in the wind, hanging upside down off the ceiling with a knife sticking out of his neck, thrashing around and splatering blood -everywhere-. Now, my cousin and I looked at each other, looked at the guy, made eye contact, and then my cousin, my favorite person in the world up till then, made a run for it.
Evidently he forgot to disable the security system on his way out, because he tripped the silent alarm and the police were there within a couple of minutes. Now, I was trying to do the right thing, stop the bleeding, get the guy down, but it was really a two person job. I had somehow ended up grabbing his cock for leverage.
I really don’t know what the policeman thought when he rounded the corner and saw me, standing over a bucket of blood next to an old dude tied to the ceiling, bleeding out, with my hand around his boner. All I know is that, in accordance with my parole agreement, I am required to recommend strongly that you do no, under any circumstances, use this method of pest control. I am not explicity forbidden, however, from telling you that it worked pretty damn well.
