[Cues] Weekly Challenge: Memorial
cues got started up again, so I decided I'm going to try and do the challenge each week. Since some of them might get wordy they'll be shoved under a cut. Here's the crosspost:
Title: Memorial Service
Words: 500 on the nose. Oh yeah.
Notes: I occasionally think about actually doing something like this, just for kicks.
Disclaimer: Names are fake, real situations coincidence, blah blah.
'Why are they called memorials, anyway?'
My friend and I were discussing the memorial service for my maternal grandparents, who managed to die within four days of each other. It was morbidly impressive for them to go so quickly to each other, and the service for them was extravagant and a bit too expensive.
'You're supposed to remember someone who's died, share memories, that sort of thing.' I shrugged and stuffed my hands in the pockets of my sweatshirt.
'But everyone's always crying, and all they ask is how -you- are. They're depressing. Why do they have to be depressing?'
'Because someone's dead, idiot. What are you supposed to say, "Yay, Aunt Gertrude finally kicked it!" Come on, that's asinine.'
'Not like that. Why does a memorial have to be -sad-? For that matter, why wait until they're dead to share these supposedly great memories?'
I shrugged again. 'I dunno. People don't think to share them until they're gone, I guess.'
My friend made a rather rude noise. 'That's crap. What's the use in having a memory if you don't share it? We ought to throw memorial services while people are still alive.' She stopped. 'Y'know, that's not a half bad idea.'
It's always a bad sign when she says that.
**********
'Memorial Service for Katelyn Woods, April the First, Two Thousand and Eight. You're out of your mind.' I stared at her.
'What? Why not? Keep reading, it says I'm not dead.'
'On April -First-?'
I heard a snicker. 'Well yeah, that's half the fun. On the back it says it's not an early April Fools' joke. I figure I'll see who shows up, might be fun. Besides, the meeting hall never has anything going on that day, so it's like extra business. They said they'd give me a discount if I was serious.'
'Do I have to cry?'
'Tears of joy, my love, only tears of joy.'
**********
If there's one thing Katelyn does, it's throw a party. Her parents had a good sense of humor, and they spread the word about their daughter's 'memorial service' and arranged for a full buffet table to be served with all her favorite foods.
It being April Fools' Day, near the door was a basket for people to place cards. Many of the attendees had gone out and purchased 'condolence' cards, sympathizing with Katelyn on her unfortunate and completely fictional demise. I tossed my own in.
Katelyn fluttered by with a plate, loaded down with mashed potatoes, grilled zucchini, chicken nuggets, fried rice, and peanut butter stuffed celery with raisins (which she insisted were called 'turds on a log'). 'Grab a plate and a seat, it looks like everyone's here - you're late as usual, neener. I'm going to open the cards soon.'
Everyone had written a memory of my friend in the card, and she read every single one, promising to explain them later. And she did - after the memorial, she wrote a book, and had one sent to everyone who had come.
Title: Memorial Service
Words: 500 on the nose. Oh yeah.
Notes: I occasionally think about actually doing something like this, just for kicks.
Disclaimer: Names are fake, real situations coincidence, blah blah.
'Why are they called memorials, anyway?'
My friend and I were discussing the memorial service for my maternal grandparents, who managed to die within four days of each other. It was morbidly impressive for them to go so quickly to each other, and the service for them was extravagant and a bit too expensive.
'You're supposed to remember someone who's died, share memories, that sort of thing.' I shrugged and stuffed my hands in the pockets of my sweatshirt.
'But everyone's always crying, and all they ask is how -you- are. They're depressing. Why do they have to be depressing?'
'Because someone's dead, idiot. What are you supposed to say, "Yay, Aunt Gertrude finally kicked it!" Come on, that's asinine.'
'Not like that. Why does a memorial have to be -sad-? For that matter, why wait until they're dead to share these supposedly great memories?'
I shrugged again. 'I dunno. People don't think to share them until they're gone, I guess.'
My friend made a rather rude noise. 'That's crap. What's the use in having a memory if you don't share it? We ought to throw memorial services while people are still alive.' She stopped. 'Y'know, that's not a half bad idea.'
It's always a bad sign when she says that.
**********
'Memorial Service for Katelyn Woods, April the First, Two Thousand and Eight. You're out of your mind.' I stared at her.
'What? Why not? Keep reading, it says I'm not dead.'
'On April -First-?'
I heard a snicker. 'Well yeah, that's half the fun. On the back it says it's not an early April Fools' joke. I figure I'll see who shows up, might be fun. Besides, the meeting hall never has anything going on that day, so it's like extra business. They said they'd give me a discount if I was serious.'
'Do I have to cry?'
'Tears of joy, my love, only tears of joy.'
**********
If there's one thing Katelyn does, it's throw a party. Her parents had a good sense of humor, and they spread the word about their daughter's 'memorial service' and arranged for a full buffet table to be served with all her favorite foods.
It being April Fools' Day, near the door was a basket for people to place cards. Many of the attendees had gone out and purchased 'condolence' cards, sympathizing with Katelyn on her unfortunate and completely fictional demise. I tossed my own in.
Katelyn fluttered by with a plate, loaded down with mashed potatoes, grilled zucchini, chicken nuggets, fried rice, and peanut butter stuffed celery with raisins (which she insisted were called 'turds on a log'). 'Grab a plate and a seat, it looks like everyone's here - you're late as usual, neener. I'm going to open the cards soon.'
Everyone had written a memory of my friend in the card, and she read every single one, promising to explain them later. And she did - after the memorial, she wrote a book, and had one sent to everyone who had come.