The ‘white shotgun’, a truly intimidating phrase when one knew the truth of it. He watched the Cleaner add water to the tub; such an innocuous substance actually hastened the process of disposal. Knowledge of chemistry was invaluable to the Executioner’s tasks. A slight stir by the Cleaner and he could see the degeneration of flesh quicken as if eager of its own will to rid the world of an evil soul.
It was the colors that always disgusted him. Pale pink flesh ended up an oily mass that reminded him of regurgitated spaghetti; the red and white chunks of tissue swirled together and slipped down the drain easier than their appearance would suggest was possible. The tanned ones were a slighter problem. Sun-kissed skin thought of as healthy beauty in life, in death meant another bottle from the Cleaner’s case and the extra effort of stirring the toughened flesh as the acid worked to dissolve it.
The condemned had earned their fate as a caustic meal for the sewers.
***Part of the A to Z Blogging Challenge***