Games of the Dead and Dying
I drove my truck back to the home. My home. The funeral business ran out of the basement. I figured Mrs Anderson had a few days, tops. That Mr Anderson was a weenie. She always said so, when we was stuck between her calico sheets. I’d talk him into sending his wife off in style.
My basement had been empty for a month.Them two other jack legs in town stole people who rightfully belonged to me. Old McSweeney beat me to that monster of a wreck out Highway Nine. Five people died, and he claimed every one by the time I got there.
Him and his dumb ass name. McSweeney’s Palace of Eternal Rest. I don’t understand why people try to dress up death with flowers and perfume and visions of the happy hereafter. It’s all going to rot in the end.
And, that other one, that I-talian, he charges everybody for services he don’t even do. Why, I once saw him switch out a fancy casket for a pine box right there at the hole. I think he sold that casket a dozen times. Swindles them all, right when they’re the most vulnerable.
They deserved to be toyed with in the worst way. Both of them.
I grabbed my jug and headed back out to the ambulance. Squealed out of my driveway, my siren blaring all through town. Past Old McSweeney. I gave that I-talian the finger for good measure.
They jumped in their ambulances and followed me, hoping for at least one corpse at the end of the chase. That I-talian even rammed my back bumper one time as we shot over the hill out of town. I floored the gas and left them in the dust. Whatever my business woes, I always had the best ride.
When they caught up to me, I was sitting down by the river. Slugging moonshine out of a jam jar and watching the light dance on the water.
If nobody would cooperate and die, at least we undertakers had our games we liked to play.
Welcome to The Undertaker Series, a set of stories inspired by my father. He told me a story late one night, on our trip to Tennessee. If this is your first visit, please click here to go back to the beginning.
Racing ambulances. Now that is a new one on me. Those big old Cadilacs sure could run though.
Drinking and driving might just make those men into their own customers.
He only drank once he stopped, but who knows how long he will stay and sober up.
“They deserved to be toyed with in the worst way” – great phrase. Nice series of tales:)
Glad it’s entertaining, Roger.
Moonshine and muckraking morticians. Oh My!
“She was only a mortician’s daughter but anyone cadaver.”
Ha, Lou. Very funny.
I’m not sure why but the song, “Running with the Devil” just popped into my mind.
I’ve always been fascinated with the coroner and the undertaker and I’m looking forward to where the story takes me.
Good song. We’ll see if it fits the series.
Chuckle! I still like this guy.
Me, too.
Masterly, friend. This character crackles.
I am having fun with it.
I love the imagery here. I can picture your dad doing this too. LOL Good for him. Can you imagine how angry those other fellas were when they found out they had been had? I wonder if they all sat down and drank moonshine together or if they just had a war of words and left?
Tune in tomorrow, James……..
Quite the character, I’m sure you’ll keep this one going for a while.
I never know what they’re going to say and do before I start. But, we’ll see. I’m doing so much revising off the blog, that it’s hard to develop these, but he’s been pretty easy so far.
Reused coffins. hehe We also had a florist in the family. He told us the florists would go back and get the flowers and reuse them for the next funeral. Poor Mrs. Anderson. I hope she doesn’t linger too long.
Or get a recycled coffin……..
Oh MY. That was downright tricksey of this fellow. And I can hear your Dad’s voice (the one you’ve given him on your blog) running in and out of this. IT’s fun to imagine which parts are your takes and which came from the original.
It is pretty easy to do Dad’s voice now. I’ve always been able to mimic him pretty well in real life, but writing it is different.
I’m liking this guy, because he does ring true to what I’ve seen and heard in the wilds of South Carolina.
There are lots of sights in the wilds of South Carolina……
Truly…and we’ve both seen many of them.
It’s all fun & games until someone dies …. Oh, wait!
These men are sick enough to think death is fun and games, I’m afraid…….
I started to read this part, Andra, following a jealousy and revenge route and then realised that he was just playing! I’m still seeing – or sensing – dark undertones throughout this, feeding through, which is making it edgy. Good stuff!
I hope it continues to walk that line, Tom. We’ll see.
Wow, what an appropriate Halloween series. Love the line about the others deserving to be toyed with in the worst way–the game of death all over again, I suppose.
Hugs,
Kathy
These men are all screwed up, it seems.
Way too much testosterone . . . or moonshine . . . or both.
Both can be a deadly combination…….
Competing morticians! Sounds like characters we’d all watch in a reality show–making fun of them and yet loving every minute of it! It’s a rough town when this guy is the most honorable of the bunch, huh? I love that when you write I really do envision what everyone looks like!
That is a great compliment, Debra, since I have moved away from describing as much. Thank you.
Damn, I thought this was the beginning!
I try to make them stand alone in case people don’t read them in order.