Realistic or Modern 𝐆𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐞𝐝 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭

[social]

A FUNERAL

The funeral was surprisingly large, especially considering it was one in the St. Marie neighborhood. Bundles of lavender lined the dead grass, a mound of dirt in the center of it. Lavender would keep cats away. That’s the least they could do, considering what a bad allergy and aversion she had to them. Abigail Meyers. There really would never be another one like her. After all, not just anyone could have their own meth lab and run it successfully. That’s right, Abigail Meyers was not only 93 years old and quite a lovely old lady, but she was an incredibly well-known dealer and producer of various drugs, most prominently methamphetamine. You would never have guessed it when you looked at her. She had rosy cheeks, a sweet smile on her lips, and a bundle of day-old pastries in her worn-out purse.

She was just a tiny old lady who meddled in everyone’s business, but now she was gone. She had passed away while in church, as ironic as that is. She had slept through the service and simply never woke back up. It’s not surprising that everyone who lived on Gilded Street pitched in to fund her funeral so she could have a proper burial. There were no dry eyes during the service, at least until Abigail’s final wishes were read.

“Now that I’m gone, you kids are going to have to fend for yourself. I can’t be your alibi anymore (unless you’re visiting my grave hehe) and I certainly can’t lend you a couch anymore. My house most likely is going to belong to the state due to my business so that’s unfortunate. But please, don’t cry or be distressed. Go to the beach and have fun. Get drunk, get high, go on an acid trip, do something to remember me. And well, if one of you drowns, I guess I’ll have some company! Until next time!”

Those words coming out of a straight-laced priest made everyone erupt into laughter as they left the graveyard, various overlapping conversations about the party they were going to host. And that’s exactly what they did. Small fires dotted the coast, staying small enough not to attract the attention of any deadbeat cops who may have been driving around, while broken coolers were filled with half-melted ice and cheap alcohol. Squeals of excitement bounced in the air as some people stupidly went into the dark ocean water, messing around to their hearts’ content while others seemed to bury themselves in the sand, silent tears still falling.

Losing someone is painful, but at least it’s less painful when you’re around others.

it's time to party, not cry. why are you being such a loser? crying over someone passing away? grow a pair! death is all around us so don't start pretending you care now.

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