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Wednesday, March 31, 2004

A Fate Worse Than Death

This is a story about how I can make any bad situation EVEN WORSE NO KIDDING DO NOT COME TO ME FOR COMFORT. You will only suffer more.

My friend, Lance, died this week. His wife, Sarah, has been taking it hard. I wanted to be there for her at the memorial service. Scott picked me up at 11 a.m., one hour before the service. We had a quick two-shot-of-courage at Applebee's (Thanks, Rico!) before heading to the funeral home. We have 10 minutes to get there.


Pulling up, I'm already upset. The parking lot is half empty. Lance had more family than this. Lance had more friends than this. They should all be here to support Sarah, goddammit. Maybe people carpooled from Sarah's. Most people have been sleeping there, anyway.

Walking up onto the porch, I spot Michelle, a girl I know from ASU. I feel relieved. We hug.

Me: Oh, it's so sad!
Michelle: I know!
Me: So sudden!
Michelle: Yeah, it was. How did you know Aunt Nomi?

Who the fuck is Aunt Nomi?!?!?!

A lot of funeral homes have more than one reception area... for more than one family... gosh, this funeral home is small, where the fuck is the office? Oh, just ahead. We'll check with them...

Seconds later, Scott and I are rushing through the lobby - past poor, old Aunt Nomi's grotesquely displayed body - from the office to a different funeral home down the street. I'm trying not to laugh, hiding my face in my sleeve. I hope I look sad. I suspect that I don't.


"Walk faster," Scott hisses.
I choke back a slightly hysterical giggle.

I race out the door towards the car. I hear Scott's footsteps stop on the porch. I glance back. He has stopped and has sympathetically taken Michelle's arm.

"I'm so sorry for your loss," he says.

I don't know how he manages to maintain his composure, but I can't. Uncontrollable laughter pours out of me the second the car door closes.

I'm so sorry, Aunt Nomi.

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