I’ve never really thought of myself as a prissy girl. I’ve spent my fair share of time elbow deep in pig grease—don’t you think any different. But this... why, this is barbaric. It really is.
I’ve been unsatisfied for quite a long time with my life here and I felt like it was just about time to move on. So I packed up my things and as sure as the sun rose the next morning I was nowhere to be found. Fakin’ your own death is quite a bit easier than you’d think--folks tend to expect the worst once you’ve been gone a little while.
All was well and good until I stupidly decided to… stay. For my funeral. Greedy, I know, but how can one resist? It was a kind of never-in-a-lifetime opportunity I wanted to snatch up while I still could. I hid behind the huckleberry bushes until the light was drained from the sky and my knees felt like I’d been sleepin’ in grits.
No. One. Showed. Not Billy, not Bob, not Shirley or Alice or Charles or any of them. I think that really says it all but I might have to keep talkin’ about it right now because this is really just bringin’ me down. I mean, I know I was leavin’ um but they couldn’t even be bothered to stay for their own sissy’s farewell from the bright world above? Isn’t this sinful? Are they not God-fearing men?
Oh, but I think I’m alright. I’m gonna be okay. I mean, I made it this far, didn’t I? Whether or not they were off at the hog races or… just back at home, shuckin’ corn… I’ve still got myself. And that’s what really matters, isn’t it?