Death Inc. (Muertos S.L.)

In the end, it's all the same.

How is it the same? Driving an Uber is better than what I do.

Their passengers wait on the street. I have to go get mine.

They can have a chat, and they get tips.

Yesterday, you took €20 from a dead man's pocket.

But that only happens once a month.

Usually you find used tissues… or candy…

- You want one? - Uh, sure.

I don't really have an equivalent.

I mean, there aren't cremators for the living.

- There was in medieval times. - Yeah?

They burned witches, redheads, blasphemers…

But they used bonfires, not crematoriums.

Ah. If only it were up to me to choose who to burn alive.

The problem that we have in our sector, the predicament is not--

- Oh shit! - Help, somebody!

- Kidnappers! They're trying to rape me! - No, no, calm down, ma'am.

It was a misunderstanding. God damn it, cut that out.

Just calm down! Calm down, ma'am.

- Help! Police! - Please, don't scream!

Dámaso? What did you say the room number was?

No, no!

DEATH INC.

- - There. There.

Not so hard. It's meant to be relaxing, not painful.

It's just, you're really tense.

How could I not be? I didn't get any sleep.

Today is make or break.

I know, boss.

It's even more than that. Today is glory or humiliation.

- Work my neck a bit. -

If she names me director-- Oh, fuck, Morales!

Don't you ever trim your nails?

Uh, sorry, boss. I'll use the pads of my fingers.

If she chooses me, I'll have finally made it.

The alternative is the worst case scenario possible.

The person in charge would be the most inept and idiotic--

- Good morning! - Hey, Chemi. How are you going?

Fantastic. I slept like a baby.

Why is he going into the director's office?

I don't know.

Out of my way.

- -

- Uh… - What can I do for you, Dámaso?

Uh, nothing. Why are you in here?

Has Nieves already decided--

No, no, no. I haven't heard anything, but I thought I'd wait for her here.

Excellent. Phenomenal.

False alarm. She hasn't decided. You can keep massaging me.

- Okay. - No. No, no, no, no, no, no, no…

This isn't good for me.

- What isn't? - If Nieves sees him sitting there.

He'll look like a director.

It's like a subliminal message. It goes straight to the subconscious.

If Nieves is undecided and she sees him in there, we're screwed.

- I don't know, boss. - We can't lose the battle to propaganda.

Hm.

- You wanna wait with me? - Yeah.

- I'll sit next to you. - Wonderful.

- Can you shuffle over a little? - Uh, yeah.

- - A little bit more.

Oh…

- That's perfect. - Ah…

- Mm. -

- Has the director been announced? - She's meant to decide today.

- Would you prefer Chemi or Dámaso? - Not sure.

It's like choosing between a 10-year-old for a boss or Satan.

I think I'd prefer the kid.

I need your help! I have a major problem.

What's the matter?

This is Óscar.

This is Juan.

I'm meeting Óscar on Thursday and Juan on the 28th.

But it's Thursday the 28th.

You print and bind Tinder profiles?

What do I do? What should I cancel?

I think either of them could be my future husband.

- Just meet one today and one tomorrow. - But which one today?

What if I lose the one I cancel forever, or he can't do tomorrow?

Or I fall in love with the one today? I'm stressing out.

- Óscar seems nice. - Juan looks like he fucks like an animal.

Juan lives eight kilometers away. Óscar, 12.

Here are their bios and some more photos, their Spotify favorites.

And at the end, I've put our chats.

Juan's funnier.

Óscar's grammar's better. Juan's is awful.

- I have an embalming to do. - And I have omelettes to make.

I'll email you both a copy!

Are you kidding? Dad would have wanted the oak one.

How would you know? You never went to see him.

- I saw him way more than you did. - Yeah, so he could babysit for you.

You're one to talk. He walked your dog every day.

- It was good for him. - Every day.

- Yeah, that's right. - The white poplar one?

- Hm? Good. Good. - Mm-hmm.

Now we just need to decide between cremation and burial.

- Burial. - Cremation. He wanted to be cremated.

What? He wanted to be buried.

- He wanted his ashes in the river. - He hated the river! He wanted a grave!

- He wanted to be cremated, trust me! - Put "burial."

- "Cremation." - No.

- Burial. - Look at me.

- Put down "cremation." - Listen to me. He doesn't know.

- You're just plain wrong. - Wrong?

PLEASE DO NOT URINATE ON THE FLOOR THANK YOU

- Good morning. - Hello.

What's up, embalming expert?

- - Oh…

Did you just mop? Can I…?

You can go in.

- Chemi, how is your aim? - Good, but I don't own a gun.

- With your penis. - Huh?

How's your aim when you pee?

Yeah, I'd say I have pretty good aim.

Well, someone doesn't. Every single day.

Somebody leaves a puddle, and I want to know who it is.

Huh… An unsolved mystery.

I love this kind of thing. Leave it to me.

Chemi Poirot and the mystery of the urinal.

Okay, find out who this pig is.

Hey, uh, Nieves, are you appointing a director?

Oh, that's today, isn't it?

- Yeah. Good old Dámaso is waiting for you. - Okay.

I'll be there once I've…

Solomon.

- Solomon…? - King Solomon.

- You didn't take religion in school? - I took ethics.

Ah…

King Solomon had to decide between two women

who claimed to have mothered the same baby.

- He proposed they cut the baby in half. - Hm.

So Solomon was a sadist?

One of the women refused, so he decided she should have it.

Mm-hmm.

Suggest cremating half the body and burying the rest.

- One will back down. - I side with whoever backs down?

- The other one. - Then it's not the same.

Morales, cases with two declarants are delicate.

- We can't take sides. - Hmm.

Propose an untenable Solomonic solution, and let them figure it out.

- Good morning. - Mrs. Nieves! Morning!

- Out! -

You're looking radiant today.

- Oh! -

- Where are you going? - Oh!

I took an hour off for a doctor's appointment.

- What's wrong? -

I'm seeing the fortune teller to help me decide between Óscar and Juan.

I'm not about to side with management,

but I don't think the union agreement covers visits to witches.

Well, you can take it for the podiatrist.

What's more important, a bunion or your future?

Bunions can have complications!

So can the future!

Two days ago, I was thinking Chemi to cheer him up about José Luis.

He seems all right to me.

Then yesterday I thought, "Dámaso has more experience."

You're totally right.

Well, 20 years or so.

And today, I'm not sure. I can't make up my mind.

Just pick one of us at random. You'll get it right.

No, not at random.

I'd consider the objective details.

Training in the sector, uh, years of experience…

- Visionary character. -

I don't think that's relevant.

Should we let our colleagues vote on it?

No, Mrs. Nieves, it needs to be your decision.

Consider the points that I've just made and, uh, name someone.

All right.

I've decided.

I'm going to go with the visionary character

whose work in marketing--

Wait, wait, wait.

You still haven't said a name,

and it's not clear which way you're leaning.

But I think maybe letting our colleagues vote would be more democratic.

Yeah, uh, I think that sounds great.

That settles it. We'll meet at the end of the day.

We'll present our proposals and let our colleagues decide.

- Sound okay, Mrs. Nieves? - All right.

I really like both of them, Juan and Óscar.

So I need your opinion as a fortune teller.

And as a woman, if you'd like to give it.

They'd both make good fathers for my children,

but it's one or the other.

I'm not a polygamist or a Mormon.

Your future is not with Óscar.

- Is it with Juan? - Neither of them.

Right… I'll show you my other matches. There's a firefighter.

The cards are clear.

You won't find the love of your life on Tinder, because you already know him.

- Really? - You see him every day.

Uh… Half the body would be buried,

and the other half would be cremated.

Are you suggesting we cut up our father?

Cut him in half?

What do you think?

Okay.

Uh… you sure?