The Funeral Director

I needed some coffee and breakfast before embarking on my plan.

I walked into a small family dinner around the corner where I normally grabbed a quick meal. At one of the tables, sat a few of the men I used as drivers, or parking attendants, or other gofers to make a funeral run smoothly.

Angelo was one of those guys.

Normally, I only used two or three of them on viewing days. The big crew, I used as drivers on funeral day. They drove the limousines, and the hearse. They provided the expertise needed to handle the deceased in and out of the hearse, the church, and of course at the grave yard.

Angelo was dressed to be an attendant. I guess he was sent over to keep an eye on Mrs. Williams. That was alright because I had planned to ask if he could possibly suggest a solution for the problem Amy presented me.

I joined the boy's for breakfast. We laughed, joked, talked sports, and generally had a good time. Angelo watched me with a curious eye the whole time. When I picked up his check, the look in his eyes changed to outright amazement. He knew I wanted something. Since he had ridden with one of the other guys, he caught a ride with me back to the funeral home.

In the car I explained my problem to him.

After listening to me without requesting any clarifications, he asked only one question, "Do you want a perminate solution?"

"Yes"

"OK, I'll discuss it with Gino and get back to you." was his only answer.

After we arrived back at the funeral home, he went down to the basement to place Mrs Williams in the small freight elevator as I opened her viewing room and turned on the lights. About the time we got the casket situated, the flowers started arriving.

Angelo and I spent the rest of the morning helping arrange the flowers. Soon thereafter Mrs. Williams's family started arriving. Mrs. Williams had asked to be buried with her rings on. I opened the casket and left the mother and daughter to spend this last bit of private time together.

Angelo commented on the woman's rings being buried with her and how a dishonest funeral director could profit from this as he put it,"Stupidly"

I looked at him and laughed, "You have no idea how much I'm making on this party. Believe me, the rings are small potatoes. "

Angelo thought about what I said and started laughing, "You know it's just like Gino says 'don't chase small potatoes, go for the whole enchiladas. '"

It was approaching 5:00PM and we escorted the family from the room. I made short work of closing and locking the casket while Angelo misted all the floral arrangements. The last thing I did before closing up the viewing room was turn down the air conditioning to 60.

We went to dinner at the same diner we had breakfast in. There were four of us. The two outside guys, Angelo, and I. When we got there some of the family was also there. You know it's a funny study of human nature to watch the interactions of all the patrons in the Diner.

The regulars knew what the four of us did for a living. When we were dressed in our "working clothes" but because there were nicely dressed but somber acting strangers, the normal diner crowd was a lot quieter and less boisterous than normal..

Our waitress gave us "the look". When I acknowledged it and looked over at the grieving family, she nodded back. From that point on, the other waitresses kept the regular patrons toned down.

When dinner was over, I walked over to the family table and asked if they had enough room in their cars for everyone comfortably. If not I had one of the limousines out side and we could shuttle everyone back to the funeral home.

To help out the diner owner offered them parking in his lot for the evening. After that discussion it took two trips but we got the family back to the funeral home therefore avoiding their driving in a time of grief.

Plus the diner owner refused to provide a check for the family's meal.

The public viewing started at 7:00 PM. People were lining up at least 15 minutes early to be ready when the doors opened. Within half an hour, the line of waiting viewers was outside the door and I had my guys walking the line with bottled water, bottled lemonade, and some simple snacks we purchased at a nearby bakery.

I was running around like a chicken with its head cut off for the next two hours. At nine, the lines finally ended inside the front doors and since the time for viewing had ended I had my outside guys start asking people to return the next day for the funeral if they tried to get in.

When the building finally emptied out, I had one of my guys drive the family back to our trusty diner. Angelo and I chauffeured the overflow in another limousine. My crew sat together at one table. The family sat in a private corner where the diner had pushed together a couple of tables.

I was impressed that the diner's crew was this thoughtful until Angelo mentioned he'd called before leaving the funeral home.

My esteem for Angelo went up a notch. I almost resolved to stop teasing him, well almost that is.

We were discussing the logistics of tomorrow's service when it got quiet. The city's Catholic Bishop walked in. He looked around and walked over and sat with the family. Now I was impressed. The head man very rarely hobnobbed with us mere mortals. And yet there he was sitting and apparently planning on eating with the family.

I thought, "Just who the hell (oops!) heck was Mrs. Williams?"

I started making plans on how to handle it if HE visited tomorrow.

Good old Angelo had cornered one of the lesser family members. It seemed Mrs. Williams had been the Bishop's house keeper for the last 40 years. She was the Bishop's gatekeeper. If someone wanted to get the Bishop's ear, they talked to Mrs. Williams. If she felt that whatever that person was peddling was worthy of the man's ear, she started whispering in the Bishop's ear every chance she got.

That night after everyone had left and it was only Angelo and I, he helped me close Mrs. William's casket and put her back in the cooler. She was going to have a very busy day tomorrow and I wanted her to look her best.

After we finished Angelo started, "I talked to the boss. He wants to gather evidence of your wife's fuckin' around (Angelo is not the most discreet individual), before he decides what action to take. You are to keep your mouth shut and pretend to be a loving husband. Do you understand?"

"Yes"

"Ok, let us handle this. And that's an order."

After he left, I climbed the stairs to our master bedroom. I undressed hanging my suit and tie on my side of the closet. I headed for the shower. It had been a long day and I was tired. When I finished and climbed into an empty bed, I realized that I had not seen my wife all day.

"Fuck her!" I thought and fell sound asleep.

The next morning I awoke to find Amy sleeping next to me. Her clothes were thrown about the bedroom, she was again snoring. But this morning she stank of booze, cigarette smoke, and sweat. I guess she was too tired to shower before going to bed.

One more wake up like this and I was going to start sleeping in one of the other bedrooms. I was not going to put up with this kind of treatment. I got up and made my morning ablutions.

I must have been too noisy (on purpose) because I got a nasty look and a sarcastic request to "try and keep it down. "

I told her I don't feel well. "I must be coming down with the flu." I mumbled an apology, but somehow managed to slam the bedroom door when I left.

I went downstairs and got Mrs. Williams out of the cooler. After checking her both visually and for any tell tale odors, I put her on the small elevator and sent her upstairs to the viewing room. There I placed her casket flowers in place and checked the rest of the arraignments for signs of aging. There were a few buds and leaves that I needed to remove. But all and all, they were holding up better than expected.

As was our custom on the day of a funeral, I had a full crew on. One of the group picked up some donuts and coffee from the local Dunkin Donuts. A couple of dozen and some coffee went into my guys break room. The majority went into the family waiting room. For the family, it would be a long, stressful day.

The family and a few friends arrived and took sustenance and comfort in the coffee and donuts.

As the funeral began, I felt a hand on my arm. I looked around and found a young priest standing there.

"If HE has the occasion to visit here in the future, please arrange to have a plain bagel. That is his preferred breakfast," was all he said.

I kept my comment very polite, but inside I was fuming. "The Balls on that kid!" I thought.

The family finished up in the viewing room. It was the last time they got to look at her, I got Mrs. Williams ready to take her ride to the church while my guys loaded up all the flowers that would fit in the two extra hearses I owned.

When everything was loaded, I started the motorcade to the church.

Arriving at the church I was shocked, every parking spot both in the parking lot and on the street were taken. Some of the people had started parking on the lawn. We pulled up in front of the doors and started carrying all the florals, except the casket arrangement into the church.

The church was standing room only. I began to wonder if I had room for Mrs. Williams let alone all the flowers. Luckily the rector and his helpers helped in finding places for everything. I guess he wanted everything perfect because the bishop was here.

I arranged the pall bearers at the top of the stairs just inside the front doors, with instructions not to touch anything until they were instructed to. My guys were trained in carrying a "customer" up or down stairs and over uneven ground.

At no time was Mrs. Williams to leave the horizontal position.

When she was placed on the cart, I instructed the pall bearers to place a hand on her coffin, but let my two guys (one front and one rear) proved the locomotion and guidance.

I nodded to the Bishop that we were ready.

He started the service.

The organist started the processional.

The congregation stood.

I almost shouted, "Let the parade begin." I said almost. I kept my mouth shut.

The service ran a little over an hour. The Bishop was a little long winded in his praise of Mrs. Williams.

We got everyone loaded and started the procession to the cemetery. It was a long line of cars, I was glad that I had requested extra traffic officers to accompany us.

Arrival at the graveyard was always a traumatic time for me. I could envision the caretakers guiding us into a dead end or even worse, the wrong grave site. But thanks to good fortune, we pulled up in front of the site.

My professional eyes surveyed the set up. It was well done. The hole was ready with the equipment for holding and then lowering Mrs. Williams into her new home. There was green carpeting placed over any damaged or bare soil, plus there were about 100 folding chairs set up under a tent, and bless their hearts, some of my guys must have transported all the extra flowers to this location.

Mrs. Williams was receiving a very nice sendoff.

We unloaded Mrs. Williams from the hearse and my guys carried her to the grave with the pall bearers and family walking behind.

The Bishop led the way.

It was a typical grave side service. The only thing different was the fact that, and I swear, all the guests placed a flower on her casket. When the time came, it looked like a mound of flowers was descending into the hole.

Mrs. Williams was now in her new home.

As I was helping the relatives into the limousines, the Bishop walked up to me and said, "Thank you and your crew for the very profession sendoff you gave my housekeeper. She would have loved it."

He patted my arm and went about greeting all the attendees who were hanging around him.

We dropped the family back at the funeral home to their transportation home. After the lot emptied, my guys and I followed our usual tradition and went to either a late breakfast or early lunch at our local diner.

The next few weeks were a little busier than usual. I attributed it to Mrs. Williams. Her funeral was the talk of the area and a lot of people want their loved one to piggy back on her fame.

I didn't mind the extra income.

I suspected that I'd need the extra to pay court costs and attorney fees generated by my soon to be started divorce. Amy? She didn't have a clue. She kept going out 2-3 times a week, "with her girlfriends, shopping."

One afternoon right after Amy left to go "shopping", Angelo drove in with two rather well dressed gentlemen. There were not the usual traveling companions I was used to seeing Angelo with. His normal friends, for lack of a better term, were best described as thugs. The kind of men you didn't want to meet in a dark alley.

This time one was a small, and bookish in appearance. He was partially bald and wore very thick glasses. The other gentleman was very distinguished looking with silver hair, perfect teeth, and a deep tan.

Angelo introduced them to me as Mr. Smith and Mr. Jones. They were Mr. DiTucci's bookkeeper and attorney. (I'll let you guess which was which). We had a very nice chat in my office.

And you were right they had waited for Amy to leave before pulling in.

As a result of our meeting, Mr. Smith left with a record of my financial accounts, promising to have them returned to me, divorce proof. Mr. Jones explained the legal stuff to me. He said I would be the injured party in this suit and as such would receive the bulk of the assets.

He also mentioned that I would be protected by my prenup.

"Prenup? We don't have a prenup."

"You will. It's being created as we speak."

I started to open my mouth again, but Angelo put a hand on my arm. I kept my mouth shut.

Mr. DiTucci employed some interesting professional help.

Poor Amy. I had the feeling she was really going to get screwed in more than the ways than she liked.

That night when Amy was not home by 6:00 pm, I took myself out to a club for dinner. I ran into a bunch of friends and had a lot of fun. To be exact, so much fun that I had to take a cab home at midnight.

Amy was pissed when I got home. She lit into me about being inconsiderate of her and not telling her I was going out. She had prepared a nice dinner (read ordered take out) for us and had plans for a romantic evening.

"Yeah right," I thought, "Like I want sloppy 2nds or 3rds."

I was banished to one of the other bedrooms that night.

"You stink. You're drunk. You're not sleeping with me until you apologize."

As I dropped off, I pondered if I should start moving my things into one of the other bedrooms. But I decided against it. I'd only have to move everything back in a few months. And besides, I had more stuff in the closet than she did.

If she didn't like it, she could move her shit.

Another month went by. Angelo kept bringing me forms to sign. At first I asked what I was signing.

'Shut up and sign," was all he said.

I stopped asking and just signed.

One afternoon, he showed up while I was eating (alone as usual) at the club. He handed me an envelope and a brochure for a funeral directors convention in LasVegas.

It was next week.

"Your flight leaves Friday morning. All the details are in the envelope. You are to go there and have a very public good time. Visit the shows, the booths and any place where you will be seen and remembered. Do not bring back any STDs! Stay away from all the women. You need to present the impression you are very dedicated to your wife."

I opened the envelope, there was only one ticket and the hotel reservations were for one. I guess Amy wasn't invited.

I looked at Angelo. "She'll be fine. But her boy friend won't be. She'll blame you, but you'll be in Nevada

Amy was still sleeping from another late night when I left in the morning.

So all I did was leave the brochure with, "I'm here all week," written in marker across the front.

Then I caught a cab to the airport.

It was a typical boring flight to LasVegas. The cabin attendants were marginally friendly, there was no food, and the seating in coach was cramped and uncomfortable. Some day I'm going to be rich enough to fly 1st class, or even rent my own plane.

It was a couple of hours from when the wheels touched down to when I finished putting away my suitcases. Ok I was excited. I'd never been in this entertainment mecca before and I wanted to see and do everything before leaving next Friday.

My first job was to register for the convention. So off I went to find the registration suite. I was in the Mirage and that's a big hotel. It seemed like it took me fifteen minutes to find the the convention registration desk. It was staffed by two of the cutest young ladies it had ever been my pleasure to meet. Since I was early, Sally Kelly and Millie Schmidt took their time and walked me through all the sessions and explained their content.

I was impressed, not because they knew their stuff, but because they weren't creeped out by the subject matter. It seems that these two charming young ladies were from a local mortician's school. They were studying to someday be my possible competition.

They signed me up for some interesting sessions, some covering new techniques, others new equipment, and others explaining additional profit centers. They also pointed out which sessions they were attending and asked if I wanted them to save me a seat. (My mother didn't raise a fool. Of course I accepted their offer.)

That evening I ate at one of the many buffets in the hotel. The food was good, plentiful, and cheap. I talked with some of the other diners while in line and found a couple of guys that were also here for the "Director's" Conference (as the hotel liked to call it).

That way other guests did not get grossed out.

We became acquainted over dinner. They were old hands at this convention, having attended for many years. They were unaccompanied as their wives were no longer thrilled attending. That night the guys took me around to various hotels for either gambling, or some of the better shows.

We even stopped at the Cheetah for their Nude Review. I had to sleep on my back that night.

The next morning I got up, cleaned up, and dressed in comfortable but subdued clothes and headed off to find a breakfast buffet. While I was in line waiting for my eggs, I saw my little cuties from the registration table. They saw me in line and pointed to an empty chair at their table.

We had a great breakfast (some day I'll even remember what the food tasted like) together. They whipped out an extra copy of their schedule (for me?) and we planned our day. They had it all figured out that we could eat not only lunch together, but dinner and an after the free floor show, snack together.

At first I figured that they were just trying to live out of my wallet, but then I remembered everything they planned was free.

It was midnight before we parted company, and with the breakfast time selected so we could meet. I was tired. Remember I was an almost 40 something trying to keep up with two 20 somethings. My age was showing. I pledged to start going to a gym when I returned home and loose some of my flab.

The rest of the week just flew by. If I wasn't in a seminar, I was with one of the girls. When Friday arrived, I knew I had to do something fancy for the two of them. I got tickets to the best show in town. Now they weren't front row but they cost as if they were. I made reservations at one of the better restaurants around. (Later Angelo said I should have called him, "We have friends in Vegas and I could have gotten you in for free.")

When the girls found out that I had fancy plans, they were both over joyed but sad. Sad because they had nothing nice enough to wear, and probably wouldn't be allowed in either venue.