Nobody's Sorry You're Dead

1

Hadley readjusted her glasses and focused on the small letters of the form. Last name first. First name last. She couldn't help but smile. Onus, her fat, orange tabby, glowered at her from his perch atop the fridge.

It had been a running joke between Harry and Hadley all their married lives. Written on paper, there was nothing strange about the arrangement. But sounded out loud, you ended up with something like pale Hadley. At least in Hadley's southern brogue.

The contest was simple.

'We Need a Jingle.'

Just like that giant coffee company who wanted a new version of their famous waking up song, not so long ago. Hadley regretted not entering that one. The $250 grand prize would have been nice.

"Now, what have we here," she muttered. "Answer a few questions. Write a jingle. Mail it in to win the grand prize. That's easy enough."

That coffee company had wanted a video with the writer actually singing his brand new song. Hadley had vetoed that. She was one of those poor souls who could not carry a tune in a galvanized pail.

The crease in Hadley's forehead deepened. She was extremely glad that no video was required. She hurt her own ears when she tried to sing, and everyone else's, too. Good there was no required singing.

Hadley concentrated on her creative writing. She looked up at the ceiling. That was where inspiration sprang. At least in her case.

"Let's see. Question Number One. How often do you polish your silver?"

Hadley reached over and pulled open a drawer. She peered inside. Clean, but not blindingly bright. The sparkle on her silverware definitely did not sizzle.

"Oh, I'd say before the tarnish clogs the tines of the forks."

She put her pencil lead to the paper. Erasing, she blew the pink crumbs out of her way.

"Better not write that. They'll never pick me if I do. Let's fudge a bit. I love fudge," she said.

Hadley wrote in her delicate script: Faithfully. Every Friday.

"Faithfully," she said glancing up at Onus, peering down at her from his refrigerated throne, "that should give them the idea I do it religiously."

Onus stared down at her sourly.

"What's the matter with you? Not feeling well? You look like you swallowed the canary sideways."

Was he on the verge of coughing up a hairball?

"Question Number Two," Hadley mumbled, "Do lingering sink stains keep you at your wit's end?"

Her cell rang. Hadley answered on her retro flip phone. She was one of perhaps the last three people on earth who had not upgraded. She refused to be tied to a battery charger every day. Besides, this little bugger was all she needed. She wasn't into texting or surfing. Leave all that to the sports nuts.

"Hey, what you doin'?" the voice on the other end said.

It was Maury, Hadley's younger sister.

"I'm filling out a contest for one of our local small businesses, Sara's Silver Polish and Stain Remover," Hadley said.

"Not another contest! What do you win? A butler and a maid and a truckload of stain remover? I got dibs on the butler, Hadley. I'll be one of those horny, old ladies who will demand he works shirtless. I'm such a sucker for broad shoulders and a six-pack of hard male abs."

"He's married, Maury, with thirty-seven kids and eighteen wives. More alimony payments than he knows what to do with. He has to make withdrawals from FortKnox to pay them all. And he's let himself go. His six-pack has ballooned into a full-fledged beer gut. He's lost all his teeth, and he probably has bad breath."