“Where do you want him?” he asked, and I sputtered. Where did I want him? Literally anywhere but inside my damn house! “Do you have one of those human toasters? I don’t know much about funeral homes. Do you just do the embalming, or do you handle the urn shit too?” “You mean cremation?” I asked, feeling like I was fucking underwater. His entire face lit up, and he snapped his fingers with the hand that wasn’t balancing a corpse over his shoulder. “That’s the word. Cremation. Thanks. That was going to bug the shit out of me.”
―
Alexandra St. Pierre,
The Mercenary and the Mortician