You see, Michael had stuck to his guns and rather than pay the extortionate fees required to fix the incinerator, he had begun to dispose of the bodies in the old well. They were now stacked so high that if one shone a flashlight into the hole, the rotten remains could clearly be seen, piled up. It was a putrid mound of dead, rotting flesh that stunk to high heaven in the deep of summer. To mask the stench rising up from the well during summer, Michael dumped some of his garbage in there on top of the bodies, as even the smell of hot garbage was an improvement. If anyone asked, he could tell them that it was his land and he would do as he wished, after all, it’s just garbage, right? Everything was proceeding perfectly. The loved ones of the deceased never questioned the ashes he gave them. Why would they? Flesh ash was the same as most any other ash, and no one dared disrespect the dead -- he had that on his side. Despite the success of the family business, Michael remained alone – unmarried, in fact he didn’t even have a girlfriend, nor had he ever had one.
