Have guests seated in a circle so that things can be passed from one to the other easily. Have the room as dark as possible, and the person who reads the story can use a flashlight only while he is reading.
Here is the story:
The truth it is,and not a myth That once there lived a man named Smith,
And it became his mournful lot to be murdered quite near this spot.
We now will pass his remains, You first will handle poor Smith's brains. (Pass moist sponges)
Smith's vision once was keen and wise You'll know it when you touch his eyes. (Pass skinned grapes. )
The head, once crowned with locks so fair is low- now here comes Smith's soft hair. (Pass a piece of fur)
Sweet music Smith once loved to hear, it fell upon this gentle ear. (Pass dried peach or apricot)
When Smith would smile at boys and girls, His teeth would gleam like whitest pearls. (Pass kernels of dried corn)
And now the next you'll scarce hold true We pass his windpipe out to you. (Pass a cold boiled Manicotti shell)
The next you soon will understand is simply poor Smith's cold right hand. (Pass rubber glove stuffed with wet sand.)
His vertebrae once needed much, You now shall have within your touch. (Pass empty spools strung on string)
Now hearken while midst dreadful groans You hear the clank of poor Smith's bones. (Clank chains and moan and groan, gradually dying away)
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