Yesterday we buried Mr. Why with medium fanfare and much black pepper, since he was known to use the stuff for various pranks: blowing it in a roommate's face, putting it in chocolate frosting while Rich wasn't looking, filling my purple hat with it, etc. Then we had a funeral "bruncheon" (it was a bit early to call it a luncheon) and told stories about Crazy Mr. Why. His mother and brother really enjoyed the stories, so I typed up my stories and gave them to the family for posterity. Here is a true example for your reading pleasure.
The setting: a five-star Spanish restaurant where the head chef actually comes out and makes the paella in front of you. A group of us are celebrating my birthday, including T, Ethel, and Mr. Why, as well as other people I have never mentioned in this blog. Mr. Why has purchased me a glass of wine so delicious it tastes like melted rubies, and we are enjoying our paella and laughing when Mr. Why makes an announcement:
Mr. Why: My toenails keep falling out.
Ethel: What do you do with them?
Mr. Why: I use them to play the guitar.
Me: Aren't they too small for that?
Mr. Why: I staple the pieces together.
Me: I'll bet they never let you back into Singapore!
Mr. Why: My government is paying your government $5 million to keep me in the country. That's why you have a budget surplus. (n.b. this was in 1998, when we did have a surplus, if you can believe it now.)
It was like a reunion, albeit a sad one, with people we hadn't seen in a decade descending upon Richard Bonomo's domicile. We all agreed we had to stay in contact... and all get together again BEFORE the next one of us dies!
Now I have heard before that bad things happen in threes, but I had never really believed it... until I found out yesterday that my former neighbor had died in some kind of freak accident, leaving a young widow and a newly-purchased house. (Perhaps it is fortunate that he hated children, because he didn't leave any little ones.) He was young himself, and somewhat impetuous, and I didn't know him well but was really more friends with his wife. The sole conversation I remember having with him is about how he spent a fortune to buy an exotic animal that should never be a pet in the first place and then killed it when it attacked him. He said this without any hint of remorse, and I'm not quite sure why he even told me, because (as you have probably already guessed) cruelty to animals doesn't go over too well with me. This is exactly why people should not own exotic (and often endangered) animals as pets, because they don't mix well with people. Leave them in the jungle where they belong!
While I did not particularly care for this individual, I am sad to hear of his unexpected passing (we don't know the details but are wondering if it could be a Darwin award-type situation, knowing the person involved), and I certainly hope bad luck does not befall yet another of my acquaintances! I half-expected one of my little creatures to be dead when I got home, but they were all alive and well as of this morning when I left for work, although Sylvia the Hedgehog is currently in Hibernation Mode. They are just all feeling ignored because I have been gone so much with funeral planning and attending.
Famous Hat
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