Psycho Jr was waiting at the door when i arrived back at the house, sheparding in well wishers. I dove in to get the small talk out of the way.
“How went the great descent?”
“Oh, just terrible, it was nothing but snags from the moment one of the bearers tripped on his shoelaces. If you are planning on dying, for the love of god, don’t go budget with the undertakers. First the antique coffin nearly didn’t arrive and when it did it was filthy, and now the church have cocked up royally!
Awful times. They told us to keep hold of him and put him on ice until they can evict the old tenants…”
He waved to some people getting out of a car who looked like they had to escape from a facility to be there.
“Go on inside, get a drink…”
No mention of the cash. I was in the clear. I headed in.
They already had him out of the casket by the time i got there. They were swinging him around like a well dressed Sunday best rag doll, swaying, waltzing, dancing to a soundtrack of raucous Irish drinking songs screamed by hysterical aunts and blubbing third cousins.
They were pouring neat gin from the bottle into his rock solid slackened jaw.
Somebody had stolen the pennies from his eyes.
A piano was being played badly.
Everyone was plastered.
I needed a drink.
I beelined towards of the sound of clinking glasses and found a row of liquor bottles in the kitchen. An obligatory Australian girl handed me a lethal rum and coke. I grabbed the remainder in the optical and i turned only to be sucked into the conversational orbit of three mad old flowery crones and an emasculated Rod Stewart looking drip of a man.
“Beautiful service…”
“…wonderful send off…”
“…shall we spare a thought for the others involved in the incident?”
“…I’m just glad the legal proceedings ended before today. Would have left a dark cloud over the event…”
“…cant argue with 12 men good and true…”
“…the less said about the other poor souls the better, its his day and he was acquitted fairly. Diminished responsibility, that’s all there is to it”
“…thank the lord for dementia…”
“…the logic was so bizarre, I would have probably assumed God was talking to me too..”
“…did you read the note? Riveting stuff…”
“…but those poor children…”
“…I’m surprised the toll wasn’t higher to be honest. The whole bus was vaporised. You should have seen the fireball…”
“…but where did he find the C4?”
“…I heard it was the Arabs…”
I had to break away. I didn’t want details. I was happy with just rum.
