Sally Attends Her Own Funeral
A short story
It’s one in the afternoon, and who would have thought so many people would come to see me dead?
“Oh, Sally had such a good heart,” my neighbor says, pretending to wipe a tear or two.
Spare me, you old wench. Two weeks ago, after two noise complaints, I didn’t necessarily have a good heart.
“My aunt worked so hard to provide for her kids,” says my niece, hugging her sister who never liked me.
Really, Juliette? After almost being kicked out of our rental for not having enough money when I was a brand new divorcee, you never thought I worked hard. You ignored that I worked three jobs and said I wanted “to have it easy.” Then you continued living your life with your three imported collection cars in your 4-car garage that you never got to use, while my kids barely had enough to eat and one dealt with a severe autoimmune disease. But thanks for letting me know I worked hard.
Tanya, my rival at high school, shows up in a tight black dress and red heels, making sure she is noticed when she walks in. She stares at my dead body and even pretends to shed a tear.
“She was so pretty. She always had the nicest smile.”
How lame. The smile, my eye. I remember you trying to steal my boyfriend in 12th grade by…
