Friends Down Low (ONC2022)

Chapter 7 - The Funeral

I awoke on the couch, still dressed in my suit.

The smell of coffee drifted in from the kitchen and I groggily followed it. Seated at the table were Clancy and Sil. It was an odd sensation, seeing them together. It solidified the situation, made it more real, like two feverish dreams combining into one. They had been chatting until I walked in, catching up on whatever beings like these would make small talk about.

Someone had made toast and I was starving, so I plopped into a seat. Clancy handed me a glass of orange juice.

"This is great orange juice," I commended.

"Freshly squeezed," Clancy said.

I took another long gulp.

"Does he look like the kind of guy that would take the time to make freshly squeezed orange juice? The reality is that he accidentally crushed the container, then wiped up all the juice with an old dishrag, which he wrung into that glass, before giving it to you," Sil said.

Not wanting to believe that I lifted the cup to the light for examination. Specks of dark sediment had settled in the bottom. "Really, Clancy?"

Clancy shook his head at Sil. "Sharp hearing on you, eh? You could have just kept quiet and let him enjoy his orange juice."

I set the glass down with a sigh. "You two aren't eating?"

Sil shook her head. "I don't eat much."

"I ate in the woods. Rabbit," Clancy said.

I nearly asked if the rabbit had been raw but didn't want an answer. More for me then and I polished off the toast. "Who's going to the funeral with me?"

Sil volunteered but Clancy muttered something about not being able to find formal wear while living in the woods. They agreed it was good for someone to stand guard at the house anyway. I cleaned up as best I could after sleeping in my suit and then Sil and I drove to the town cemetery.

***

I looked at the piled soil on the freshly covered grave. My gaze drifted to Sil, who shrugged. Amelia avoided my eyes by staring at the grave intently.

"We missed it?" I asked. "How did we miss it?"

While there was no headstone yet (on backorder according to Amelia) Uncle Simon's coffin had already been buried. A whopping two hours ahead of schedule.

"I mean, isn't that the point of a graveside service? To watch them lower the coffin in?"

Amelia sighed. "I'm sorry Finnigan. Your uncle requested that he actually be buried before any mourners arrived. He didn't want to make a fuss."

"Fuss? I'm wondering if he knew the meaning of that word."

A car pulled into the cemetery and McGavin clambered out of the backseat. He'd swapped his brown suit for a lime green one, but had retained the shiny, white shoes. With a sigh, I headed over and walked him to the gravesite. Amelia greeted him, expressed her condolences to us all, and departed.

"Who's that other voice?"

"It's Sil," Sil said.

"Ah. Princess Poison," he said with poured-on awe.

"Yes. Deadeye," she replied with less enthusiasm.

He frowned. "I do like your moniker better." He tapped his cane to earth. "So, Simon is already buried?"

"Yup. The whole crowd that came to see him off missed the whole thing," I snarked.

"Easy, Finnigan," Sil said with a motherly tone that annoyed me. "I'm sure he had his reasons."