Flying_gnome_2015 - The Monday Morning Memo

“She was getting seen by half the town and buried in a stupid dress she only ever wore to work on Manager Appreciation Day, as her personal joke. Now she’d be wearing it for the boss-appreciating days in heaven, so the jokes go on. She probably would have wanted the dress Stoner bought her in rehab but knowing him he saved the receipt and took it back.

Oh, but he was all tore up, was Mr. Stoner. I almost didn’t recognize him in a tie, plus reflector sunglasses for the extra effect. People lined up to pay their respects, with Stoner standing at the casket so the ladies could hug him and tell him what a tragedy to see her taken so young, and him a widower. Then they’d walk away and say whatever shit they actually thought of mom. I could see their faces change, heads leaning together, hustling back to the living.

The church was not one the Peggots or any of us had ever gone to, except for some of Stoner’s family. Sinking River Baptist. Maybe that made it Stoner’s home court, but I didn’t see how it was his place to be up there beside the casket. He had barely known mom a year. It was me that had mopped her vomit and got her to bed and hunted up her car keys and got her to work on time, year in, year out. I could have put her together one last time, but nobody was asking.”

- 11-year-old Damon Fields, Demon Copperhead, p. 108

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