Dead man decomposing

Bloat is most noticeable in the abdomen, Arpad is saying, where the largest numbers of bacteria are, but it happens in other bacterial hot spots, most notably the mouth and genitalia. "It's predominant in the groin and face. In the male, the penis and especially the testicles can become very large."

"Like how large?" (Forgive me.)

"I don't know. Large."

"Softball large? Watermelon large?"

"Okay, softball." Arpad Vass is a man with infinite reserves of patience, but we are scraping the bottom of the tank.

Arpad continues. Bacteria-generated gas bloats the lips and the tongue, the latter often to the point of protruding from the mouth: In real life as it is in cartoons. The eyes do not bloat because the liquid long ago leeched out. They are gone. X's. In real life as it is in cartoons.

Arpad stops and looks down. "That's bloat." Before us is a man with a torso greatly distended. It is of a circumference I more readily associate with livestock. As for the groin, it is difficult to tell what's going on; maggots cover the area, like something he is wearing. The face is similarly obscured. They live like rice, pressed together: a moist, solid entity. If you lower your head to within a foot or two of an infested corpse (and this I truly don't recommend) you can hear them feeding. Arpad pinpoints the sound: "Rice Krispies." Ron frowns. Ron used to like Rice Krispies.

Bloat continues until something gives way. Usually it is the intestines. Every now and then it is the torso itself. Arpad has never seen it, but he has heard it, twice. "A rending, ripping noise," is how he describes it. Bloat is typically short-lived, perhaps a week and it's over. The final stage, putrefaction and decay, lasts longest.

Arpad continues up the wooded slope. "This woman over here is farther along," he says. That's a nice way to say it. Dead people, unembalmed ones anyway, basically dissolve; they collapse and sink in upon themselves and eventually seep out onto the ground. Do you recall the Margaret Hamilton death scene in "The Wizard of Oz"? ("I'm melting!") Putrefaction is more or less a slowed-down version of this. The woman lies in a mud of her own making. Her torso appears sunken, its organs gone --leeched out onto the ground around her.

The digestive organs and the lungs disintegrate first, for they are home to the greatest numbers of bacteria; the larger your work crew, the faster the building comes down. The brain is another early-departure organ. "Because all the bacteria in the mouth chew through the palate," explains Arpad. And because brains are soft and easy to eat. "The brain liquefies very quickly. It just pours out the ears and bubbles out the mouth."

Up until about three weeks, Arpad says, remnants of organs can still be identified. "After that, it becomes like a soup in there." Because he knew I was going to ask, Arpad adds, "Chicken soup. It's yellow."

Ron turns on his heels. "Great." We ruined Rice Krispies for Ron, and now we have ruined chicken soup.

On our way out, Arpad shows us a skeleton with mummified skin, lying face down. The skin has remained on the legs as far as the tops of the ankles. The torso, likewise, is covered, about up to the shoulder blades. The edge of the skin is curved, giving the appearance of a scooped neckline, as on a dancer's leotard. Though naked, he seems dressed.

We stand for a minute, looking at the man.

There is a passage in the Buddhist Sutra on Mindfulness, called the Nine Cemetery Contemplations. Apprentice monks are being instructed to meditate on a series of decomposing bodies in the charnel ground. The monks were told to keep meditating until they were calm and a smile appeared on their faces. I describe this to Arpad and Ron, explaining that the idea is to come to peace with the transient nature of our bodily existence, to overcome the revulsion and fear. Or something.

We all stare at the man. Arpad swats at flies.

"So," says Ron. "Lunch?"

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