The Sausage Sighting Prank at the Funeral Home

I was saddened to hear that Larson's Funeral Home in Rock Island is closing.

It may seem strange to get nostalgic over a funeral home, but the gigantic blue-stone structure in downtown Rock Island was an important part of my childhood.

1. It sent out advertising calendars to everyone in town every year, perhaps as a momento mori.  I checked the date hundreds of times on a red-emblazoned calendar from Larson's Funeral Home.

2. It was the site of a major sausage fondling.

In the fall of 1972, when I was in seventh grade, my friend Craig's older brother had a job at Larson's Funeral Home.

Jim was sixteen years old, tall and lean, with sharp features, a thick neck, and hard wiry biceps (I never actually saw him naked).

All he had to do was stay in the office overnight to answer the telephone, take down the information about someone who just died, and call the mortician to arrange a pickup.

Most nights, no one called, so Jim just camped out in the office: there was a television and a couch where he could sleep.  Down the hall there was a kitchen, with lots of leftover hors d'oevres in the refrigerator.

No one said Jim couldn't have friends over.  On more than one occasion, he had just enough time to shoo everyone out and dispose of the pizza boxes and beer cans before the mortician arrived with a pickup.

Seventh graders were all in awe of the boy who had a brother who worked with dead bodies!  Was it gross?  Was it creepy?

Could we see one of the dead bodies?

We asked, but Jim refused:  "I could get into a lot of trouble."

"Come on -- you let your friends visit all the time."

"Yeah, my friends.  Grownups, dig?  I could get into a lot of trouble letting little kids run wild in the funeral home.  What if you knocked over a funeral urn, and scattered some poor guy's ashes all over?"

That only made us more anxious to go.

Finally, one Friday morning around Halloween, Jim gave in.  "We just had a new pickup last night," he told Craig.  "That boy who died in the car accident down in Coal Valley.  He's still in the embalming room. You guys come over tonight around 10:00 pm, and I'll give you a tour."


10:00 pm?  We had to be in bed by 10:00! This would take a little strategizing:

1. Brett, the cute dark-haired boy I danced with at the canteen, invited Craig, Bill, and me over for a spur-of-the -moment sleepover.

2. At 9:00 pm, Brett's older brother and his friend offered to take us all out to Happy Joe's for pizza.  They said "We might be back a little late."

3. At 10:00 pm we parked on a side street and, talking and laughing to cover up our nervousness, walked up to the front door of Larson's Funeral Home.

Jim let us in, told us to wipe our feet, and showed us around.

The lounges, the music room, the library, the coffin room.

Jim demonstrated why Barnabas Collins, the vampire on Dark Shadows, was never filmed getting out of his coffin.  There's no way to do it without looking ridiculous.

That was interesting, but we wanted to see the dead body!

The small chapel, the large chapel, the kitchen, the office.

What about the dead body?

"Ok, I saved the scariest part for last," Jim said loudly, stopping in front of a tan metal door.  "I just want to make sure you're prepared.  Sometimes the eyes are still open, and they follow you around the room.  And do you know what rigor mortis is?"

We shook our heads.

"You know why they call corpses stiffs?  Because their bodies stiffen up.  Everything stiffens, even, you know, down below."

"No way!" I exclaimed.  "Not the dick!"

Jim nodded solemnly.  "Everywhere.  It's pretty gross.  I won't make fun of you if you decide to stay behind."

Are you kidding?

He opened the door and led us into the embalming room.  It looked like a doctor's office, all white cabinets, rubber gloves, and gleaming steel implements, but on the examination table lay a naked teenage boy.

Blond curly hair.  A cute round face, a red mark on his forehead.  Eyes closed.  Smooth hairless chest, pale arms and legs.  Beautiful, thick Bratwurst.  Fully aroused.

I  couldn't take my eyes off it.

"You can go up and touch him if you want," Jim suggested.

The others hung back, hesitating, but I moved forward to the table.  Jim looked surprised when, instead of touching his hand or face, I gently wrapped my fingers around his penis.

It was warm!

At that moment Corpse Boy opened his eyes.

I jerked myhand away.

He sat up and yelled "Uggh!"

We all screamed and ran from the room, out into the small chapel, and into the foyer.   Brett got to the front door first.  It was locked.

Jim and his friends were laughing.  "We got you good!"  he exclaimed.  "Meet my Cousin Boris, from Transylvania."

Corpse Boy emerged, pulling on a pair of jeans.  He was still partially aroused.   "I vant to suck your blood!" he said in a Dracula accent.


I was pretty sure that it was all a prank before I grabbed Corpse Boy's penis.  But not entirely sure.

Years later, I ran into Jim at the Mall.  He asked "Have you felt up any corpses lately?"

I get nostalgic thinking about Larson's Funeral Home.

The Demolish Boys Get Naked

Rock Island, June 1975

One Saturday in June of ninth grade, we were driving through Moline, the next town over from Rock Island, and we passed a building I had never seen before: a three-story tall tombstone, all skeleton-white, with sinister black windows and odd symbols on the roof.  The sign said "Scottish Rite Cathedral."

"Rite" meant "ritual," and "Cathedral" sounded Catholic, which to Nazarenes meant the epitome of degradation, debauchery, and unbrindled evil.

"Is that a Catholic church?" I asked breathlessly.

"Worse than that," Dad said.  "It's a Masonic Temple.  A secret society, like a club for men.  They go in there to get naked and drink human blood and worship Satan.  And they especially like to drink boys' blood, so be sure to stay far away."

"Secret societies" were on the list of things forbidden to Nazarenes.  But they were near the end of a very long list, and preachers and Sunday school teachers usually devoted their time to more immediate sins, like going to movies or eating out on Sunday.  And I wanted to know more about men getting naked.

This was before the internet, and there were no books on the Masons in the school library, so the only way to get more information was to ask two older boys in NYPS (the Nazarene Young People's Society):  Dave was a member of church royalty, with perfectly cut black hair, perfect teeth, and an athletic physique.  Last summer I got a Sausage Sighting at summer camp: impressive, maybe a Bratwurst, cut.  Terry was slim, with dirty-blond hair almost too shaggy to meet Nazarene standards, an aspiring Gospel singer from an unsaved family.  He backslid every few weeks and had to go down to the altar again, so I got to go up and hug him while he "prayed through to victory."  Hard, tight muscles, warm body.

The next afternoon, during the down time between youth choir and NYPS, they were playing basketball in the church parking lot.  I approached.

"Think fast!" Dave yelled, throwing the basketball at me.  I dodged it -- I hated sports.

"What a dork!"  Terry exclaimed as he ran to retrieve it.  They ignored me to continue their game.

"Um...I was wondering...what do you know about the Scottish Rite Cathedral in Moline?  Dad said they kidnap and torture kids inside."

Dave stopped playing, and grew quiet and solemn.  "Oh, your Dad's right.  You don't want to go near that place.  Terry was trapped by them for awhile, before he got saved."

"The Masons have a special cult for boys called the DeMolay," Terry said.  "That's short for demolish."

"What do they do to the boys?" I asked.

"Oh, all sorts of weird, disgusting things.  Like...they make them drink blood."

"And eat human eyeballs!" Terry said.  "Don't forget the eyeballs."

Dave nodded.  "And they make the Demolish boys run across hot coals. And take off their clothes so everybody can see their wieners."

Terry wrapped his arm around my shoulders and leaned in conspiratorily.  "Then they make the poor scared boys kiss each other on the lips!"

"Bogus!" I exclaimed, although I didn't really think it was bogus at all.

Dave wrapped his arm around my shoulders also.  "That's not the worst of it.  While they're kissing, the Demolish boys have to touch each other down there!"

"Gross!"

"They're having a Demolish Boy meeting Wednesday night," Dave said.  "We may be able to arrange a little sneak and peek, if you're interested."

"If you have a strong stomach," Terry added.  "It's intense."

 "I have a strong stomach! I've been inside a Catholic church before, with the idols and candles and everything!"

I was pretty sure Dave and Terry were putting me on, but there was at least a chance that I could see boys kissing and touching each other down there.  Besides, I would be hanging out with two cute guys.

They insisted that I bring a friend along -- "safety in numbers" -- so I invited Craig from Washington Junior High.

They picked us up at 7:00 pm Wednesday night and took us to Alfano's, the high school hangout, for pizza and more spooky stories about the Masons and the "Demolish Boys."  Then we went to levee and walked around in the gathering darkness.

"Demolay Meetings are always late at night," Dave said.  "The witching hour."

Finally we drove to Moline and parked in a dark alley behind the Scottish Rite Cathedral.  It looked bigger and scarier from up close.  The windows were all dark.  There were only two cars in the parking lot.

"Are you sure there's a meeting?" Craig asked.

"Sure," Terry said.  "You don't think they would advertise it, do you?  They don't want the fuzz breathing down their necks."

 They led us to a side door.  It wasn't locked.  Down a long, narrow hallway.  I heard sinister music playing from somewhere deep inside the building.

Up a narrow stairway to a small room like a dressing room: racks of white robes, a full-length mirror, belts and shoes on little racks.  A small window looked out onto the empty Masonic stage.

"The main ritual area is right down there," Terry said.  "We'll be able to watch the ceremony from here.  But we'll have to keep the lights off and be very quiet, so they don't...."

Suddenly the door burst open.  A Mason!  A tall man in a white robe, his face obscured by a white mask, a sword in his hand.  "What the hell are you doing here?" he exclaimed in a deep rough voice.

We glanced at each other, terrified, not sure what to do.  The Mason was blocking the only way out.  Maybe if we apologized, he would let us go....

"We're sorry...." I began.

"Looks like Satan provided us with some new boys for the sacrifice," the Mason said with a chuckle. He pointed his sword at Craig and me.  "You boys take off your clothes!  Now!"

I was still mostly sure that this was a prank, so I nonchalantly pulled my t-shirt off and undid my belt.  Craig looked uncertain, but took off his shirt, too.

"Come on, be quick about it!  Show me your wieners!"  He turned to Dave and Terry.  "You, too.  You have thirty seconds to get your clothes off, or I cut your head off."

My heart started to race.  Dave and Terry would never agree to be the butt of the joke.   This was real!

"No, don't cut my head off," Dave said, his voice trembling.  "We're sorry.  We'll do anything you want."

"What I want is to see you kissing each other on the lips and touching each other down there.  Now get busy!"

Craig was already naked, his pale, slim body glowing in the fluorescent light, his small penis thickening, partially aroused.

I was getting partially aroused, too, wondering if I would get to kiss Dave and Terry, too, or just Craig?  Would I get to fondle all three of them?

Suddenly Terry started laughing.  "Ok, Joe, we've tortured the kids enough for one night."

The Mason put down his sword and took off his mask and robe -- a high school boy!

Dave put his arm around Craig's shoulders.  "You can get dressed, buddy.  I hope we didn't scare you too much."

Craig shook his head.  "I wasn't scared at all."

"And Boomer!" Terry exclaimed.  "I thought you were a little wuss, but you have nerves of steel! If I didn't know better, I'd think you actually wanted to get naked and kiss Craig on the lips."

"And touch him down there," Dave added with a grin.

By the way, the DeMolay is a real youth fraternity affiliated with the Masons, with about 15,000 members in the U.S.  They do character-building and charity work.   They don't actually require you to get naked and touch each other.

Some famous people who belonged to the DeMolay Society  as kids include Mel Blanc, John Steinbeck, John Wayne, Walt Disney, and Bill Clinton.

See also: I learn about oral sex in the church parking lot; The Sausage Sighting Prank at the Funeral Home.