Autopsy in room 4 * Stephen King Short Story

“Subject is a white Caucasian, age forty – four,” Pete says, speaking for the mike now, speaking for posterity. “His name is Howard Randolph Cottrell, residence is 1566 Laurel Crest Lane, here in Derry.”
400full-autopsy-room-four-screenshotImagine you are on an autopsy table. Not dead but breathing ever so slightly. And everyone thinks you are dead. You get undressed, you get checked for marks and your temperature is retrieved via a baseball-bat rectal thermometer.

autopsy-room-four-nightmares-and-dreamscapes-18308905-640-427This guy could almost be alive…
But you try to speak and nothing comes out. You try to indicate by a motion that you’re still in there and that you are alive and that shouldn’t treat you as dead.
I focus all my will and effort on closing my eyes while he’s looking down into my face, and cannot produce even a tie. All I wanted was eighteen holes of golf on Saturday afternoon, and instead I turned into Snow White with hair on my chest. And I can’t stop wondering what it’s going to feel like when those poultry shears go sliding into my midsection.
Here is a short story (less than 20min read time) that got a movie (Have you seen Awake?).

If you haven’t read the story, I thoroughly recommend it – the orderly comes back right in time to stop the autopsy and mention the deadly snake that bit him was found in his golf bag. The funny part of the story is the guy on the table manages to get an *cough* erection *cough* from the doctor handling him.

One final note. Katie Arlen and I dated for four months, November I994 through February of I995. We broke it off by mutual consent, due to sexual incompatibility.I was impotent unless she was wearing rubber gloves.

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