Season 2 starts February 3rd

Funeral for a Friend

 

The sunlight glinted off the gloss finish of the dark oaken casket. The Menagerie clad in black, hung their heads in reverence as the priest gave his benediction.

“And now as we offer up to the Lord a new angel, would any of her loved ones like to like say a few words in her honor?” he held out his hand and Cheryl approached the podium.

“We only knew Mary Sue for a month, but I can honestly say there isn’t a person here who didn’t adore her. There was nothing she couldn’t do and better than any of us. If any of us would have a crisis of faith, she was there with just the right motivational monologue, that often ended in sleeping together, but that was her magic and charm. She defeated all of our worst enemies, most of whom we didn’t even know we had until she pointed them out, with one weird trick. Even Mistaro, the Living Mist. He sounds harmless, but see how you hold out with him clawing at the inside of your lungs. That was one of the many times she saved my life. She even performed the lung transplant using a non-invasive technique she developed that afternoon using gene editing and stems cells. She saved my life at least three times a day, but never had the opportunity to even save her from breaking a nail. Not that she ever did, her nails were fantastic. It was only a month, a January no less and they suck, but it felt like a lifetime. She seemed indestructible, but then one day, we come back from hiatus and she’s gone. I’ll really miss the pep talks, thank you, Mary Sue.”

“Anyone else?” the priest asked.

“I have more to add about the pep talks,” Hunter raised his hand.

“We all know about the pep talks, can we move on?” Sophie jabbed him with her elbow.

Ray (just pick one) approached the podium, “I have a few words. I may not have found Mary Sue’s pep talks to be particularly effective, different species, completely incompatible…”

“She gave Dean the Dinosaur a pep talk,” Cheryl said.

“Where is he anyway?” Sophie scanned the assembled masses.

“Oh, ah, do you guys have time for another funeral tomorrow?”

“… she still knew the perfect thing to say. She made me a better angel, yes, angel, she showed me how to embrace who I really am; a Judeo-Christian symbolic representation of an abstract concept filtered through the lens of Western hermeticism and adapted to a science fiction milieu.”

“I always thought of him as Thor without the delts,” Cheryl whispered to Sophie.

“Or Doctor Who,” Sophie added.

“She was always right there when you needed her,” Ray continued, “Even when the resurrected Yaldabaoth returned with a plan that made sense, and threatened to blow up the Camden Aquarium in exchange for a million dollars. It was a simple plan, but it was logical and linear, you could follow it. Mary Sue showed up out of nowhere and diffused the bomb with a fraction of a second left. I’ll miss you, Mary Sue, we all will.”

“Would Mr. Delareux or Washington or whatever the hell your name is like to say a few words?” the priest said.

Delareux let out a prolonged snore, as he slouched in his seat, chin to his chest, drooling.

“He’s in New Orleans holding together the threadbare connections to the rest of the extended narrative,” Ian said.

 

After several pages of shitcky dialogue and an endless, descriptive passage likening the coffin being lowered into the ground, to a barge disembarking, sailing the fallen hero to the Underworld, the funeral ended. The Menagerie piled into the Chariot and Carl squeezed into Elle Mae. They sat in silence avoiding eye contact, staring out the windows.

“January 2018 never happened, agreed?” Cheryl said cranking the engine.

“Agreed,” they replied in unison.

Author: Mort

Not much is known about Mort. He's a skeleton who runs a magazine.

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