Humor

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“You’re not going to believe this,” Gary told me.

I was distracted at the time, since I was trying to eat an orange without getting my hands too sticky. So I admit that I didn’t respond until he held the letter under my nose.

“Look at this,” he insisted.

I looked. The letter said that Bella had shown a preference for their matching frilly purple tutus, and that dear Aunt Charlotte – who’d died at the same time as poor Bella – had paid in full for both of their funerals. Aunt Charlotte was letting us know that she wanted both of them to be buried in their tutus.

“So now I have to find those stupid purple tutus,” grumbled Gary.

“Honestly, Gary, I don’t understand what the problem is.” I went to the sink and washed my hands. They’d gotten sticky anyway, though the orange had been delicious. “Bella and Charlotte were together for years. There was no one that your Aunt loved more. If Aunt Charlotte wanted Bella to have a nice funeral, what’s the problem?”

”It didn’t bother you, seeing Bella all dolled up in those frilly babydoll clothes – at her age and size? And the way the two of them carried on, with Aunt Charlotte joking that they were twins?” he asked me.

“It was kind of silly,” I agreed. “But Bella seemed to thrive on it. She seemed so happy to wear them and Aunt Charlotte kept on spoiling her by buting more and more of those outfits.”

I dried my hands. “You know what I think your real problem is, Gary?”

”What?”

”I think you’re just upset because Aunt Charlotte spent so much of her money on Bella and there’s not as much left to leave to you and your brothers. You were expecting a big inheritance from your rich aunt.”

His silence spoke more than words.

“I thought so. Look, let’s go find the tutus together. After all, if Aunt Charlotte wants to pay to share her funeral with her St. Bernard, who are we to question her?”

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