Tragic's Wake

Indeed, today I found out that I had passed on and I wasn’t even invited to my own funeral. I went out to do my banking after several hours of preparation and fortification only to run into a couple of erstwhile individuals who appeared to have soiled their ratty undergarments at the mere sight of my unholy countenance. I hadn’t actually socialized with these characters in more than a few years and as I approached their spot on the icy coated asphalt, eyes lifted in my direction, sockets bulged and one reached shakily to grasp the other’s arm just above the elbow. It seemed the man had seen a ghost. Oh but as yet; so little did I know..

Because I found this behavior quite odd (to say the least) I slowed my pace until I came to a stop directly in front of them. Both of the delightful darlings gaped at me for a moment and then one uttered something to the effect of “omigaaawd but I thought you died DIED on the weekend and but you’re here and omigawd OMIGAWD what happened? Wow..” blinking a few times I said “Maybe you should tell me, actually..” and the tale came tumbling out. The word on the street today, possibly yesterday too, was that I’d passed into the great beyond either sometime late Sunday night or during the wee hours of the morning on Monday. Apparently there was no word as to exactly how this tragedy came about. I’m not sure if my bowels finally ruptured, if I overdosed on something or if some divine nemesis finally descended from the heavens to take supreme vengeance and finally rid the world of my vile unsightly presence..  I also didn’t find out where the services will be held or when. Pity, I hear they serve free coffee at those sorts of soirees and I’d truly not want to miss out on something like that, to pay my respects, ya know?

I laughed, loudly and probably rudely, I really don’t care. It was bloody hilarious. I assured them both that I was indeed still a member of the living gene pool and I disentangled from their weirdness to continue my journey onward to my bank and to my darling husband’s store. While waiting for him to have a free moment, I strolled out to the second floor rail in the mall and had a bit of a look around. A man I know well was sidled up at his usual spot watching the pretty young girls giggling below. He glanced my way a second, did a bit of a physical stuttering double take, raised an eyebrow and smiled tentatively. I returned the smile, turned on my heel and headed back into the store. A short while later I ran up to my favourite coffee shop to grab a sugary fatty latte and on my way back down I passed him once again in the mirror hall. He grinned broadly this time and said “So I guess you’ve heard, eh?” I laughed and said “Oh yes, yes indeed, I did.” we both laughed loudly again, shaking our heads and continued in our respective directions..

Now. The mystery? I think it roots back to several little things. A bit over a week ago, a nefarious and reprehensible ex of mine started the rumour that I was dying. Absolutely and utterly dying, oh hee hee ha ha, yay the bitch is finally dying! I shrugged it off and didn’t really put much thought into it. Then the facebook add requests started coming in. People I haven’t spoken to (or cared to speak to) in seven, eight years and more. People I absolutely cannot stand. I actually killed off one of my accounts and changed my name on another. I culled the remaining pesky locals in a single sweep and blocked them so they wouldn’t even see my existence. I kept family and extended family on the account with the new name and I got on with ignoring the turds.  It was approximately forty eight hours after this mass social cull that this ridiculous tale of my untimely demise came to be.

I’m laughing at this whole idiot fiasco tonight. I’m thinking that perhaps I should have worn a hoodie uptown earlier and just left them to believe their little faerie tales. I wish I’d had some advance warning as to the story in the first place, it could have been the most fun I’ve had in years.. I’m hoping the story survives for some or perhaps gets revived when I disappear from sight for recovery after my surgery. I think it might make for some crazy fun the coming summer, don’t you?

I’m only left with one serious question and I need your help, dear readers, to understand and deal with this horribly perplexing dilemma. What on earth does one wear to one’s own funeral especially when the one in question has absolutely not passed on at all?

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