What I expect my eulogy will be.
The young man walked up to the podium and tapped the microphone a few times even though he had been reassured earlier that the sound system was fine. He tapped his jacket pocket and then his pants pocket–actually, he patted himself down airport security style until his anxious expression melted into relief. He presented a piece of creased paper and finally cleared his throat.
“I’m here to present the life of my best friend here. She unfortunately left us at the worst time and in the heart of youth. However, she went down doing what she loved. Because I miss her, I blame the holiday itself. I blame the store itself. Black Friday, you are a horrible capitalist creation that stole my friend from me. All she wanted was the illustrated version of Valley of the Dolls! But no, Barnes and Noble had to place that book at the top of the shelf sixteen feet above her head. Obviously she was forced to climb up there and snatch it! With the discount that the flash sale offered it was a mere five dollars compared to the original price of twenty-three fifty! That price was legendary! I don’t reproach her for climbing the shelves; I reprimand Barnes and Noble for making those wooden shelves so flimsy, and for them not nailing them into the wall and ground so they would not tremble or fall! The fall–the impact”–his sniffling and running nose got the best of him for a second and a kleenex appeared in his hand. Patting his eyes and readjusting his glasses, he continued:
“She was only five feet tall. She was so petite and small! I was never good at physics but that’s like reaching five G’s falling down and feeling the wrath of the full force of gravity! I imagine she fell to smithereens. The silver lining here is that she accomplished everything she wanted to do. She rode a mechanical bull and lasted fifteen seconds; we cried together on the marble floor in the bathroom of a hotel room that we splurged on whilst wearing couture gowns; she danced on a table once with me at the club; we went to Ireland once with just our wallets and a pizza and had a picnic on a cliff, and she read a thousand books. Well, actually, she read nine hundred and ninety-nine books.”
He paused and waved at someone a few steps away who stepped forward and handed him a box. Opening the box, he pulled out a hardcover book.
“Here you go Sarah. The Valley of the Dolls, remastered edition with illustrations and bonus photos of the film. I didn’t make it in time to snatch that Black Friday price for you, but I got it anyway.” Leaning over, he placed the book into the casket behind the podium, and he brushed her flyaways back into place. His eyes gazed at his old friend for a second, and scanning her quickly, his eyes narrowed, and he turned back to the crowd, his voice an octave higher.
“I’d also like to point out that Sarah was wearing head to toe vintage Saint Laurent Rive Gauche today including a vintage gold choker (that I gave her, by the way) and matching bangles and rings (that I helped her find later), yet somehow she is now missing one ring and one bangle. Also, her top is white silk, and I sent it to get dry-cleaned, so I find it interesting that now she has a few tan colored drop stains. Y’all bitches better not have cried on her corpse! Gross. Don’t you remember that she was a germaphobe! After-life Sarah, Sarah 2.0 will not be happy about this! I cannot believe that we have friends who steal here! I am apalled. Nevertheless, Sarah used to say that the ‘show must go on,’ so I will finish for her. She was the most stylish, funny person I knew, and she was fantastic at spreading her love for reading. I will miss you, but I know you are with Joyce, Chopin, Hemingway, Austen, Flaubert, and Garcia Marquez. I’ll miss you, but I know you are having way more fun there. Please never take part in Black Friday again.”