TR: These are the good years for Barb and me. I decided to stop mowing our lawn, which made the neighbors a little testy, especially since one of them has his house up for sale. I told them we were letting our lawn revert to its natural prairie state, as a conservation measure, and also to cut back on the use of fossil fuel, and if they had any conscience, they would do the same. And now we don't have to go to the block party next week and bring a casserole dish. Works fine for us. And then one day I came downstairs and found Barb, surfing through a web site about funerals ----- Barb, what are you doing?
SS: Jim, it's time we started planning our funerals. Here---- you can fill out this form and tell what you want, what music, what sort of memorial------
TR: Why? I'll be dead. It won't matter to me.
SS: Jim, it's about the kids.
TR: No it's not. It's about us. We're the dead ones.
SS: I want my funeral to be happy. Like a party. Have you walk in with my iPod playing all my favorite songs, have people dance, they can form a conga line and put me in the ground and go back to the house and have sliders.
TR: Barb. I'm not going to be walking ahead of the casket playing Jennifer Warnes songs. I'm going to be prostrate with grief, wearing dark glasses, inconsolable.
SS: Oh, pffffff. You will not. You'll probably have a date lined up for that evening. Anyway. What sort of funeral do you want, Jim?
TR: I want to be cremated and the ashes put into a green garbage bag and hauled to the dump. No memorial service, no music, no sermon, nothing. When you're dead, you're dead.
SS: Well, I'm going to put on a big funeral and I'm going to sing "Candle in the Wind".
TR: You are not.
SS: I am. And I'm going to invite Diane to speak. Your first wife, Diane.
TR: Over my dead body!
TR: Well, I'm going to eat lots of fiber and take a brisk walk every day ----- so you'll die first and I'll have you cremated and put you in a garbage bag.
SS: Then I'm going to become a vegan and join a health club, so I can give you a big happy festive memorial with Diane talking about how you were always there for her especially after the divorce.
TR: Barb, I think you're not getting enough ketchup. Ketchup contains natural mellowing agents that help you accept that we should respect each other's wishes. No funeral for me.
SS: What about me?
TR: Can I invite Sam?
SS: Absolutely not.
These are the good times
Summer's in my soul
Nature is blossoming
Out of our control
Ketchup is flowing
On your casserole.
GK: Ketchup, for the good times.
SS: Just don't put it on your hot dog.
TR: That's mustard country.
RD: Ketchup, ketchup.