Dan Carver - Ruin Nation

But the discomfiture’s false. Lucas doesn’t get upset. Even after the landmine, with his face flapping open like a circus tent doorway, he was still jocularity itself.

“You’re welcome here any time you want,” he laughs. “But what do you want?” And he prods the tarpaulin distractedly. “He sure is leaky, isn’t he?”

“I burst him,” I say.

“Is that jive talk?”

“Popped him,” I clarify. “He was full of gas.”

“Uh huh,” says Laura, coming to join us. “That’s jive talk alright.” And I’m damned if they don’t talk rubbish my way for another five minutes. It’s the ADHD – Attention Deficit Hyperactivity Disorder, or whatever they call it nowadays. They both have it. So I grab them by the shoulders and…

“I love it when he puts his arm around me,” says Laura.

“I’m not sure I care for it, myself,” remarks Lucas. “Darned impudence in my book! But what do you think, darling?” And he’s in the back of the van, soliciting opinions from Bactrian’s body.

“Look!” says I. “Now we can plough deeper into the realms of nonsense or…”

Laura’s got her hand inside my shirt.

“Tell me, Hugo, did you see me in the greenhouse? Were you entranced by my womanly charms?”

“Always am,” says I, sweeping her up and sitting her down. “But, ample as they are, it’s your professional talent I’m after today.”

“Do tell,” she says.

“I’m all ears,” he says. “Look! My pockets are full of them!”

I have no intention of looking at what Lucas may or may not have in his pocket – I’ve made that mistake before – and so I continue:

“As you’ll have no doubt noticed, I have a corpse in my car.”

“It’s a van,” says Lucas, “but I like the alliteration. Please proceed.”

“Thank you, I intend to.” And I pause because I know they enjoy the anticipation.

“This corpse,” Laura coaxes. “Come on!”

“Oh yes. I need it skinned.”

“And then what are you going to do with it?”

“Well, nothing really. You see, it’s only the leather I’m after. Preferably in one piece.”

“Why? Are you making a coat?” This is Laura’s lateral remark. Lucas, who’s read a great deal of pointless literature, has other ideas.

“He’s making a girdle. A girdle fashioned from dead man’s skin allows the wearer to transform into a wolf.”

“How likely’s that? Look, if we can concentrate on the matter in hand.”

Lucas unwraps the body. He squawks in horror. He’s seen the penis.

“Yeh, I recommend you don’t touch that. It may be contagious.”

He swears again. And then Laura’s in the van with him, and there’s some muttering I can’t quite make out and they return looking serious for once.

“Did you kill him, Jupiter?” It’s clear he doesn’t want to ask, but he fears he has to. “Only he’s taken a blow to the back of the head. His skull’s cracked like an egg.”

Laura turns to me.

“We can help you this time. If you did kill him, I mean. Because we know you and we’re sure there must’ve been a good reason for it. But we can’t go making a habit of this sort of thing. We’re one of those businesses that operate in a… in a grey area , legally speaking. We can’t risk drawing attention to ourselves.”

“Your loyalty’s touching,” I tell them. And it’s true. It is. “But you’ve nothing to worry about. This is all above board. A funny kind of above board, I admit, but all legit just the same.”

There’s much sighing of relief and I’m informed that giving a little more information might be the polite thing to do. So I tell them what I feel I can: I’ve been given a body of unknown provenance by an official organisation. They want me to strip the skin and use it as the covering on an animatronic figure. I don’t feel confident enough to remove it, so I thought of my good friends and their years of experience in a related field.

“Well, that’s okay then,” says Lucas.

“But we’ll have to do it out here,” adds Laura. “I’ve seen that cock. We can’t risk him contaminating the stock.”

“Thanks,” I say. “How much do I owe you?”

Lucas looks shocked.

“We wouldn’t dream of accepting your money. Your company, however, is a different matter altogether.”

“You will be expected to dine with us tonight,” adds Laura, taking up the theme. “No ifs or buts!”

Well, there’s not a great deal I can say to that. She goes inside for aprons and plastic sheeting. Meanwhile, Lucas strops his hunting knife and starts to tell me about the many gases contained in the human body.

“They’re not all flammable,” he says, and I’m not sure whether this is scientific fact or entertaining fiction, “but you’re best off treating them with caution. You were right to burst that guy. Shifting the gas prevents ignition.”

“Ignition?”

“Accidental ignition, of course,” he states firmly. “I mean, I like to think my sense of humour has matured over the years. But sometimes the power tools, they throw out sparks – when they hit bone or a metal pin or a filling or something. You’ve not seen anything till you’ve seen a dead nun shooting fire from her sphincter!”

“Sure,” I say with a comical nod, “happens every day.”

“Check out Laura’s eyebrows if you don’t believe me! They’ve only just grown back!”

“Yeah. Right.”

“It’s her own fault,” he continues. “I said, ‘Don’t go poking around that thing, Laura Larkin, you don’t know what’s up there!’ And what happens? The old girl goes off like a flamethrower! ‘That’s God’s revenge,’ I tell her, ‘for messing around with one of His own.’”

“You have to be careful with the clergy,” says Laura, returning with another tarpaulin.

“Glad you told me,” I say, “please, don’t ever tell me again.”

There’s talk of using a pressure washer on the body and how “it’s so powerful, you stick it up the nose, it blows chunks of brain out the ears”.

“I don’t want him all saggy and soggy,” I say. I put on an apron and step back. I intend spending the majority of the procedure looking the other way. Lucas hands me a knife. I hand it back. He laughs.

“For an army surgeon, you’re a big girl’s blouse!”

Laura’s poking Bactrian with a stick.

“You could club seals with that!” she says.

“He probably did,” I reply. “Looks like a bestiality-related condition.”

And we set to work. If you’ve ever skinned anything, you’ll know the deal. So let’s fast forward to dinner. I decline a drink, but Lucas is having none of my protestations.

“Ring home. We’ve got a phone. Call up your estranged harpy and tell her you’re staying over. She’ll be glad to get rid of you for a while. We however, would be glad of the company. At least till morning… when the novelty wears off and we kick you out.” He has such a charming way with words.

My mind wanders back to my last visit. When they balanced body parts on my sleeping form and took photographs. Producing the pictures over breakfast was of equally questionable taste. Well, I’m making my excuses, but they’re not taking no for an answer. Soon I’m standing with a glass in my hand and it’s too late to leave.

“I’ll stay on one condition,” I say, “no practical jokes.” But it’s a vain hope. I know I’ve no choice in the matter.

Laura flashes those mischievous eyes of hers and Lucas starts to laugh – two lunatics lost in their own world of internal organs and sick humour.

The night goes as you’d expect. It’s fun to start with and the rest is a blur. I wake up in the spare room. My head feels like it’s been nailed on and I don’t need Laura greeting me at the breakfast table with Bactrian’s skin folded over a chair. I don’t need her making it dance for me.