The Brains

The Brains My uncle was "normal" in, the sense) he wore not a mask of convention, which scared people who wore the strait-Jacket of the conventional. In a civilized society, honesty cannot be tolerated and the unfortunate truth tell is attacked From religious, moral and political quarters. my uncle, Carl, was sent to a mental institution in Denmark, where the good doctors were trying to make the “normal” fit the norm. Months later, a telegram Carl had died in an accident communication was cumbersome back then but there was a number 601, which we understood the number of his grave. In later years I travelled to Denmark to visit Carl’s grave. I found the grave at a cemetery called by the locals, “the graveyard of the brainless" It appears when a patient died, the brain was removed and put in a white plastic bucket for further study The intuition was forthcoming and allowed me to see to the basement where the bucket was stored. Hundreds of buckets were stored on shelves like books never read; and the was a bucket 601, my uncle. They said I could take the bucket home, but I declined his brain would be better off with the other brains Who knows? Maybe they spoke to each other over the long night.