Krebs Cycle and Corpse Couture

Kevin, for the last time, you can stop reciting the Krebs cycle to Mrs. Henderson," Brenda sighed, nudging a particularly stiff arm back onto the gurney. "She's not going to appreciate the nuanced breakdown of cellular respiration.

Kevin, fresh out of mortuary science school and brimming with enthusiasm, pouted. "But Brenda, understanding the biological processes of decay is crucial for a holistic approach to post-mortem care!"

Brenda, who had seen more decay than a forgotten fruit bowl in a student dorm, merely raised a perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Crucial for what, Kevin? So you can explain to her grieving family why she's starting to smell faintly of blue cheese? Or perhaps you'd like to lecture the maggots on their metabolic efficiency?"

She adjusted her surgical gloves with a snap. "No, Kevin, the *crucial* part is ensuring Mr. Peterson doesn't look like he lost a fight with a lawnmower, despite having *actually* lost a fight with a lawnmower. And that involves less Krebs, and more 'creative reconstruction' and 'strategically placed lilies'."

Kevin's eyes widened. "But isn't that... deceptive?"

Brenda paused, a faint, almost imperceptible smile touching her lips. "Honey, at this stage, 'deceptive' is practically our middle name. We're in the business of selling eternal peace, and sometimes, eternal peace requires a little bit of theatricality. Now, about Mr. Peterson's left ear... do you think we can make a convincing replica out of the leftover earwax from Mrs. Albright, or should we just go straight for the clay?"

Kevin blanched, eyeing the small jar Brenda produced with a label marked "Albright - Earwax (L)". He suddenly felt a strong urge to revisit the Krebs cycle. It felt safer.