When I was a kid for as long as I could remember whenever I was in a car and passed a field with tall grass, I would wonder how many dead bodies were in the field. A field the size of tennis court had to at least have 8 bodies rotting away. Whether or not I believed that there actually were dead bodies, the idea of fields with tall grass made me think of dead bodies until I was like 15. I’m sure at some point I realized that decaying carcasses create nauseating odors that the cops could probably smell too. So, I’ve moved on to thinking numerous other places store dead bodies. Even today on the way home from my traditional weekend of burrito eating (I finally reached 15 burritos –not in one sitting of course – and EARNED a free t-shirt from Freebirds), my wife, sister-in-law and I passed the ghetto-est looking storage unit I’ve ever seen in Houston, and that is saying a lot. The walls and roofs were made out of that wavy metal that sheds are made out of sometimes, and I said, “I bet there are some dead bodies in there.” And my sister-in-law pointed out that I say that all the time. Huh.
That was the first time that I was really cognizant of this quirk. Thinking back though, in New York we drove by all sorts of vineyards and I'd ponder, "I bet there are some dead bodies over there." At Lake Keuka: "I bet there are some dead bodies at the bottom."
I often wonder if there are dead bodies in the foundations of the houses in my neighborhood. I imagine some construction workers were arguing over the last burrito and – BAM! – a shovel across the back of the head. What’s the next logical step? Encase his body in a cement coffin under someone’s house; it’s the perfect crime.
I bet someone puts a dead body in the garbage bin at least once a week somewhere in Houston. Someone must have come up with some anti-stink spray that I’m unaware of.
P.S. Here is the proof of my victory.