Morbid is morbid.

"This doesn't look so good," I say to Donna as I help her lean into the water so she can let the current wash her wound clean.

 

"It's fine.  I just need to sew it up." She tells me as she nods to let me know that it's time to hobble her back out of the water.

 

We sit there for a moment as we both tear new strips from our shirts and tie up the wound as tight as we can.

 

I stand for a moment then ask Donna if she wants to use my bra strap?  She hesitates before telling me that she thinks the make-shift bandages will suffice.  "Besides," she continues as we both head back towards Jim, "You kind of need it."

 

I look down at my torn top and realize that my bra is the only thing keeping me decent -- if you could even call it that.

 

And then, I start to laugh.

 

Donna doesn't even judge me but looks at me rather confused.  I try to control myself, but it only acts as a defunct dam -- causing my laughter to gush out even stronger.  Eventually Donna has no choice but to chime in.  We try our best to muffle our laughter -- but there's too much of it.  A moment later we're both reeling forward from the weight or our uncontrolled explosive behaviour.

 

Jim turns the corner.  He doesn't find us amusing.

 

"I'm so sorry," I say to him as we draw nearer while surreptitiously trying to wipe away rampant tears.  "I guess I really needed that," I tell him as I straighten up and begin to regain my composure.

 

"What the hell could possibly be so funny?" Jim asks as he stands there looking dumbfounded and perplexed.

 

"Well, it's really dark..." I start, but then realize the context of our reality and decide to continue.  Morbid is morbid.

 

"Go on," he says and looks to Donna for some answers.  She gestures that she was merely laughing at me and so he returns his gaze back towards me.

 

"Well," I start "I offered Donna my bra strap, because, you know -- she needs a sort of tourniquet and then I started to picture myself all Amazon-like running from the mutants with my boobies whipping all over the place -- and, I dunno.  It just seemed kinda funny."

 

"I see," says Jim. 

 

We both know he doesn't.

 

I do my best to suppress the rest of my laughter.  Jim's stern glare reminds me that we need to dispose of the bodies before their friends come back to look for them.  Every now and then Jim hears me snicker to myself while the last of my laughter trickles out.  Jim chooses to ignore it, and so we muster along, concentrating on the task at hand.

 

What I didn't tell either of them was the extent of my dark train of thought.  How I saw myself potentially gaining the wrong kind of attention from the mutants as my boobies swung to and fro; and -- for whatever reason, I thought that was kind of funny. 

In actuality it's rather disturbed, but then again so is burying three headless bodies on a warm sunny day that boasts nothing but positivity, when the reality is anything but.

 

Right?