I Am What I Am.
11/8/2011 8:33:30 PM
Warning: My post contains black humour. If mortality is an unnerving concept, this might not be for you. I am posting one of my short stories in honour of National Short Story Week. www.nationalshortstoryweek.org.uk
Welcome to my dark side.
I Am What I Am.
Me? I’m the life and soul of the party. I dread the day when I can no longer wear my six inch heels or my spray-on black and crystal-encrusted Jane Norman.
It’s not actually spray-on – that’s just what my daughters call it. Occasionally I wonder if they feel embarrassed by me. If they do, they never say.
I sing in a jazz band every Friday and Saturday night – have done for years, even as far back as when we were allowed to smoke on stage. Con Clubs, British Legion – I even gigged at the Shepherd’s Bush Empire last year. My tribute to Shirley Bassey went down a storm.
I love music. I’ve already chosen the songs to be played at my cremation. Rod Stewart has always been one of my favourites, but my husband of twenty three years doesn’t think Hot Legs is an appropriate choice, and he said no to Take That. Maybe Relight My Fire is expecting too much from the congregation. He completely lost it when I mentioned Burn by Nine Inch Nails. I was surprised when my youngest suggested it, but it’s good to see she has my optimistic sense of humour and not her father’s ever present pessimism.
Well, it’s said that opposites attract.
I’ve chosen my burial outfit too. Having failed to find anything respectable in my overstocked dressing room, I went shopping with my girls. It took some negotiation, but we settled on a, what I would call Christmas purple, evening gown, with full length sleeves that flare at the cuffs. I’m tempted to wear it at the next show, but I wouldn’t be seen dead in the same dress twice. I just pray the girls will guide my husband away from his usual suggestion of ‘wear something comfortable for once’. Dear God, don’t let him put me in that M&S winceyette dressing gown. Perhaps I could leave the label sticking out so he could see the ‘Keep away from flames’ warning.
We’ve had some laughs over the choice of coffin. I asked my son-in-law if he could build me one – I know how much he loves to use the power tools we bought him for his birthday. I’m not very big – four bits of ply and a few nails should do it – nothing he couldn’t get from B&Q, and I’ve already got some handles – I took them off our old dresser before it was consigned to the tip.
I wonder if there are any parts of me that could be reused.
What was that? Mrs Jones? Yes, that’s me.
I guess I’ll find out now.
It’s been lovely passing away the time with you. For what it’s worth, I think ladies with bald heads are very sexy and you have so many wonderful hats to choose from now. Who knew you could buy a Philip Treacy imitation at Wednesday’s market?
Best go – the oncologist is waiting for me.
Wish me luck.
Comments:
Peter:
11/9/2011 4:07:58 PM
Your DARK side.
Very funny, just my sort of humour, well put together and despite the topic, full of optimism and hope!