Ashes – The Harvard Lampoon

Smellfungus #

| Issue Editor: SWR '19 | Art Editor: SW '20

Ashes

  JFAR '19

ASHES

– Well hereeeee you go Mrs. Johnson—your very own son’s ashes.

– Why, doctor, these ashes smell a bit… fishy.

– Haha, you dumb bastard. Do you kiss your son with that mouth? ‘Cause that’s very much who you’re holding.

– Doctor, this is…

EARLIER IN THIS PIECE

– Doctor I finished burning that beach kid.

– You did it all the way this time?

– Yep, to a crisp. No saliva left this time. Burned the shit out of him. He’s dead now if not before.

– Good because that was really gross when you gave me the ashes last time and it was just like a bag of spit. Got the ashes with you?

– Yup got ‘em right here in my trusty reusable tote.

– Whoa there, how big was this kid? This is easily five things of ashes.

– See, the kid was brought from the beach with this shark latched onto him. And I thought the shark was pregnant ‘cause it was so huge, so I cut it open and there were easily, and I’m not even shitting you doc, several other sharks attached to this kid that I hadn’t noticed.

– Don’t tell me you burned them. We can’t keep giving people animal ashes or animals alive.

– Come on doc, of course not—if you’d let me finish, I was going to burn them with the kid and give them to the mom and lie about it and continue giving people animals for the rest of my life, but the sharks finished eating him as I held him in my hands, so I just had a palm full of sharks and no kid.

– No one is ever going to have your job here again. – Boy was my face red, doc, believe me.

– I’m firing you and deleting this job.

– Anyway I ate the sharks and crushed up a bunch of drywall and aspirin, that’s what’s in my tote.

– This lady expects her son on her desk by the end of the day. What are we gonna do?

– Well I have some cat litter in my office, we could kill her other son and burn him instead.

Helloooooo, doctorrrrrr?

– Oh crud it’s his mom, oh man, oh shoot, awwww fuck. We can’t give her this dust you brought.

– Alright I’ll dump out the dust and lay in the bag and pretend to be her son

(door opens)

– Well hereeeee you go Mrs. Johnson—your very own son’s ashes.

– Why, doctor, these ashes smell a bit… fishy.

– Haha, you dumb bastard. Do you kiss your son with that mouth? ‘Cause that’s very much who you’re holding.

– Doctor, this is…

(blinking real fast) Is something wrong?

– …Incredible. They look just like him. Thank you so much. This is going on the mantle with the others.