Page 204 of Mayhem and Minnie

It’s a dark brown, the same shade as his face. That bog surely did a number on him.

I spend a few moments analyzing it—from a purely scientific viewpoint, of course. There’s nothing gay about it, I swear, nor necrophiliac. I’m simply gathering data.

For a flaccid mummified dick, it hasn’t shrunk too much, retaining much of its fullness and size.

He is, of course, uncircumcised.

Got you there, buddy, I think to myself in satisfaction.

But the visual estimation is not enough.

I unravel the tape and measure it from the base of his pelvis to the tip.

“I can’t believe I’m taking part in this,” Giles continues to mutter, at some point crossing himself and saying a prayer. “This is beyond criminal, Marlowe.”

“It’s research, Giles. If you’re so against it, you can see yourself out. I’m busy.”

“No, no, no. I’m not leaving you with a naked mummy. Your mother would have my hide.”

“Then stay.” I shrug.

The measuring tape says a little over five inches.

I scowl. That’s a lot for flaccid. Perhaps he was a shower not a grower. Although…

Mine is about the same flaccid and a little over nine erect.

I swear under my breath.

“Giles?”

“What now, Marlowe?” He rolls his eyes.

“Could we, theoretically, pump liquid into his dick to see how much it distends?”

He gawks at me in shock, then crosses himself again.

“No. Leave the poor man alone. He’s already dead.”

“But I need to know,” I mutter to myself.

“It’s going to damage the corpse more than it already is. You’re taking this too far.” He pauses. “Are you still seeing your therapist?”

“As a matter of fact,” I start and then suddenly pause. “Not anymore.”

Giles sighs. “Does your mother know about this?”

“She must, seeing that you know,” I fire back. “And what you know, she automatically knows, too.”

“Damn it, Marlowe. Do you want to send her into an early grave? She’s always worrying about you, and you go and dig up a century-old corpse and start desecrating it. You’ve done a lot of fucked-up shit, but this?—”

“Why would she worry about me? I do perfectly well for myself. I have a job, a house, a steady income, and I’m not in jail. If this isn’t the standard for leading a good life, I don’t know what is.”

I put the ruler back in its drawer and pull back the pants on the mummy—or what’s left of the fraying material. Although I’m reluctant to admit it, Giles has a point. I’m behaving erratically.

Once upon a time, I would have never touched an old and dried-up corpse, especially one that likely still has the tuberculosis bacterium inside it. But I’ve come to terms with the fact that I’ve left the old me behind, erratic as that person was, and I’ve embraced a new type of insanity.

The Minnie kind.

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