The ad will read: “Woman wanted; to
help in discovering if male is a necrophiliac.
Must be alive but not attached to remaining
that way.” It will run for a week in the paper
and if anyone wants me to, I will gladly pay.
It’s a risky proposition, but you never know.
My friend says there’s a chick he knows,
he thinks there might actually be two.
One will do it for free the other will get paid.
He laughs, thinks I am joking. “Fucking Necrophilia?”
is all he can ask looking at the newspaper.
I shrug, “Only a few more fetishes remain.”
Don’t get me wrong, it’s not fucking remains
that I am excited about. I just want you to know,
when it comes down to it, pen to paper,
it’s the power in the idea, well the fucking too,
but that’s secondary. Plus, maybe necrophilia
is for me. This is a small price to pay.
My buddy call me, chick two wants to be paid
and chick one hasn’t responded. A few bucks remain
in my wallet, enough for me to see if necrophilia
is my cup of tea or not. At least I’ll know,
but she’ll have to sign something too.
I need to write a contract out on paper.
I give her the money and she signs the paper.
She counts the cash, happy to be paid,
and I wonder if she thought this through.
When she is dead, the money will remain
but I figure it’s okay, of course she knows.
Maybe she has a thing for necrophilia.
She had to die for it to be necrophilia,
I left her body on top of the paper
and the cash in her bra so the cops would know
she wasn’t robbed and was worth what was paid.
The next day they found her remains
the money and the written contract too.
I discovered necrophilia isn’t for me, but now I know
the desire remains and I consider ad two
to be in the paper: “Discover if you want to fuck the dead, I’ll pay.”