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Monday, October 09, 2006

Death be not proud.

Well, I finally got those nattering nincompoops out of my apartment.
Afterwards, I was in such a hurry to get over to Hal Kane's place that I foolishly forgot to change out of my red outfit. When Hal opened the door, he threw his arm over his eyes and screamed, "My retinas!" But, after he recovered his eyesight, we had a lovely conversation. Hal Kane is a younger, thinner, non-mustachioed version of my Aldo. If he packed on a few pounds and traded his jeans in for Sansabelt slacks, he would be devastatingly hot.

Unfortunately, Hal didn't seem too troubled by his cousin's death. His attitude was very dismissive. "Yeah, he's dead, inner demons, what have you, memorial service, come as you are, yadda yadda." I wanted to punch him in the mouth.

So, on Sunday, Ian, Toby, Wilbur and I got together in my apartment to dress for the funeral. Ian and Wilbur chose somber dark suits, but Toby and I agreed that brighter, sportier colors--orchid purple for me and salmon pink for her--would help to give the impression that we don't have anything to feel guilty about. Of course, that's a lie. Toby and I murdered him, and we both know it.

On the drive to the funeral, the most bizarre thing happened. My outfit changed from a jazzy orchid purple to a dark, somber black-violet! When I got out of the car, I saw that Toby's salmon pink suit was gone, replaced with a suit in a grayish shade of light blue. It was as if our clothes were like the telltale heart, broadcasting our guilt to all and sundry!

I was overcome with grief when I saw the headstone with the name of my beloved on it. Of course, Wilbur and Ian--those beasts!--could think of no one but themselves. During the service, they whispered disrespectfully about how they didn't want to speak because they hated Aldo. Ian even had a strange discourse with a nearby tree about the matter.

I wanted to talk to someone who loved and respected my dear Aldo as I did, so I spoke to Hal Kane. I thought it was so puzzling that he had buried Aldo here in Santa Royale, and not beside his wife in his old home town. Hal said, "Eh, didn't wanna spend the money." I noted that he must have put a rush job on the headstone to have it ready on so short a notice. Hal replied, "It's plastic," and gave it a kick to demonstrate. I wanted to give him a kick in the groin, but I restrained myself. Then he said I shouldn't worry because the service would be short. He didn't want it to take longer than ten minutes!

Hal muttered something about Aldo being "at peace with his lovely Elise," which I thought was a nice sentiment, if a little callously stated. I felt like weeping. Then Hal asked if anyone else wanted to speak.

I will tell you the rest later. I can't see the screen through all the tears.


Anonymous Ian Cameron, PhD said...

Toby my dear, that was a capital idea of yours to stop by that outlet mall on the way to the funeral. Your new periwinkle pantsuit really shows of those legs, and this Men's Wearhouse charcoal blazer is a welcome change from the light grey one I was wearing this morning. Anyway, I don't understand why you were so upset earlier when I whispered "if only Mary could have gotten lucky". I mean, she hasn't had it in twenty years, and she clearly had the hots for him, as I was saying earlier to that tree.

Blast.. what am I saying; I just can't seem to keep my thoughts together. Ever since Mary served us that punch I've had the most infernal headache, and when Hal Kane asked if anyone wanted to speak I was overcome with a wretched feeling of vertigo. I'd better drive on the way home. It helps to clear my head.


12:35 PM  
Anonymous Lou Sitrling said...

Dear Mary,

I am glad to see you are keeping up with your blog. What with your volunteer work, attending funerals of the people you've killed, and your extensive duties as a barbiturate and amphetamine trafficker, I don't know where you find the time. Must be the pep pills, I guess. Anyhow, I'm writing from the hospital where I am now convalescing rapidly after the transplant; they tell me that these genetically engineered baboon hearts can last up to several years with the right medication. I just wanted to thank you again for your indispensable weight loss advice - during my lengthy stay in intensive care I had to be tube-fed and have now lost over 2.5 pounds!

I am now back on solid (and liquid lamb-based) foods, and have been able to sample several of the excellent special apple cakes you left for your grandson Dennie. (That mannish nurse friend of yours always seems to leave them just inches out of his reach.) Mary, you must give Kelly and I that recipe! I know for a fact that the only three ingredients involved are cinnamon, flour, and fruit, but I can't for the life of me imagine how you get it to taste so delicious.

Lou Stirling

PS Kelly and I were deeply hurt yet again to not be invited to Aldo's funeral - I can assure you that our weight would not cause a graveside cave-in as you implied. But seeing as how we were the only ones who didn't have a part in his death, I guess I can understand.

1:55 PM  
Blogger Mary Worth said...

Dear Lou,

I am glad to hear that you are recovering nicely from your heart transplant. I promise you that I won't make any ape jokes, as Dr. Cameron has been doing all about the Charterstone Condominium Complex.

I did not invite you or Kelly to the funeral because you, quite fortunately, did not help to kill my Aldo. It was just murderers and Kelrasts at that funeral, Lou.

Best of luck, Mary Worth

Dear Dr. Cameron,

It has been much, much longer than 20 years since I have had intimate relations with a man. Remember, my husband Jack has been dead for decades.


3:32 PM  
Anonymous Dennie Worth said...


So that’s where the special apple cakes you left for me went. That blackguard Lou Stirling got them. If I see him, he is going to feel the wrath of my cane across his head.

As for you dear Grandmother, I am so sorry for your loss of Mr. Kelrast. However, you can take comfort in the fact that you dealt with him the best you could, without giving up the strong moral principles inculcated by your Presbyterian upbringing. I don’t think you murdered Mr. Kelrast, anymore than you murdered those Nazis back in World War II. Just because your actions lead to someone’s death, that doesn’t make you a murderer. Don’t wallow in self-pity. There are people in this world who desperately need your advice. And I need someone to replace those special apple cakes Lou Stirling stole from me. Buck it up, grandmother. You are made of sterner stuff.

Your grandson,
Dennie Worth

5:02 PM  
Anonymous the real victoria "toby" cameron said...

Dearest Mary,

I am sorry that you are still grieving the death of Mr. Kelrast. It is unusual to see you this upset so long after a friend's untimely death, incarceration, or disappearance.

Sometimes I feel that our life at Charterstone is almost surreal, and that we are more like...oh, I don't characters in a book or magazine. But without the high-quality ink and paper.

While it's true that a plastic headstone is not traditional, Mr. Kane told me that he hopes to have it filled with sand in order to make it have a more substantial quality. And I thought the neon orange Sharpie he used to fill in the information on the headstone gave it a festive look. The happy face with the little X's for eyes was a nice touch.


6:38 PM  
Anonymous Aldo Kelrast's ghost said...

Mary you murdering harlot,

I *demand* that you buy me flowers! It's your turn! "One good turn deserves another!"

Sigh.. who am I kidding.. you were just taken in by the dashing mustache on that florist. Well, I'm off to get drunk again. To be honest I'm not sure if this is heaven or hell. There's an everlasting fountain of Johnny Walker, but Elise is just as much of a bitch as ever, and this time she won't stay under long enough to drown.


6:03 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

Dear Mary,

I have only recently stumbled across your golden words, and am crushed to see that you have not updated this blog in several years. Could it be that you have lost the fearless, callous hubris that allowed you to post to begin with? When I found this blog, I realized your intrinsic evil had found a voice, but now I challenge you to once again mock the world by exposing your demon self.

I call you out, Satan

2:16 PM  

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