An impertinent friend has suggested I just stuff the orifices with haggis and dead baby seagull and other Scottish delicacies but that impertinent friend has been struck off my Friends I Never Suspected Could Be So Hurtful list. Just to show him.
“Good God, the orifices of what, PCB?” I can sense you shrieking, hands flying to clutch at your throats – and in a few cases your groins: you know who you are, you People Who Are On Another List Entirely. Well let’s draw back a little and I’ll describe what I envision:
It is a beautiful day and all that is six-legged and good is out twittering and buzzing around the glorious green-and-brownery of Southern California. In the distance, children laugh and then trip and cry and somebody says something’s not fair and the teacher has to be called and it’s quite a hullabaloo but it’s not happening right in front of us so we don’t care. Somewhere a dog barks, completing the Arcadian idyll. The lush green canopy filters light onto the long table below and a gentle breeze flutters the sleeves of the cadaver as blood drips bucolically down the white sheet and onto the innocent grass. See the flies buzzing greedily around the exposed brain cavity! And watch as pale maggots inch fatly out of a gaping wound where a tummy button ought to be. In a short while children will gather, having washed their hands and then picked their noses again right afterwards. They will crowd around the deceased and begin to feast from his orifices. For this is the annual school Mad Hatter’s Tea Party. Oh yes, hats will be worn. And, oh yes, tea WILL be poured.
Another mother and I have elected that gore is to be the theme of our class picnic-table this year. It is to be a palpably disgusting triumph. To that end, I have been busy sploshing red paint around on white sheets and trying to figure out a way of making a man-sized cadaver with food-safe orifices in which to stuff all manner of despicables. Or Jello in plastic bags mainly. But Jello of many hues, and tapioca pudding! Tapioca to simulate suppurating sores and pus-filled cankers. Brains so far are looking like they’ll be semi-melted marshmallow with strawberry jam haematomas lovingly presented in a screwtop skull. There are huge opportunities for red licorice, obviously, but as yet, the other mum and I haven’t had a chance to discuss them. Eyeballs are going to be black-grape-stuffed lychees because we need to be mindful of establishing healthy-eating habits early on, and there will be more than just the usual two. This is Ojai, so we can just say the extra ones are inner eyes and chakras an’ that and nobody will bat a third eyelid.
The children are going to be wearing surgical masks and using my old pairs of eyebrow tweezers to extract the maggots (white jelly-beans) from the carnage. There is to be spinal-fluid lemonade but it will have been pre-extracted and put into teapots to avoid unnecessary stickiness. There will be no chocolate pudding of any sort, anywhere. They are children, and as such not nearly as puerile as at least three of you, and we don’t want anybody to cry. It’s happening on Monday. If anyone has any suggestions for embellishing our cadaver with edibles please spew them into the comment box where I will pick the sweetcorn out and stuff them into our stiff. The more abominable the better, although grits and marzipan are out, obviously.