“So how big do you think you can make a pinata?”
Ted chafed slightly, immediately and acutely aware that this customer was not worth polishing his brass ‘Managed Expectations’ nametag for. “I’m sorry?”
Stroking the fine mahogany surface delicately with short, chipped nails she pointed to a tastefully mounted sign and replied, “Well, it says here ‘Customization Options Available – Ask Us!’ So now- here I am- asking you,” She squinted slightly at the reflective nameplate, “…Tedward.”
“It’s Ted.”
“My preference is for a traditional brightly coloured donkey- you know, the classic look- but then I was talking to a friend.” She paused and exhaled deeply. “And HE said it might be cultural appropriation.”
“And *I* said- ‘Well, what do I care, I’ll be dead.'” Changing her voice to a whiny, nasally tone, she went on, “‘Ummmm, usually at a funeral, you want people to remember the good things about you?’ Honestly, can you believe this guy?”
“Wait, this is for a funeral?”
A hearty laugh erupted from her, as though a geyser of bullshit had shot forth from somewhere deep within her. “Do you think I just came here to look at urns for my mantle or something?”
“Well, I suppose, I mean, we do provide items for post-funeral receptions and it might be something for smaller children to be distracted by,” Ted mumbled.
“It needs to be like, probably 6-7 feet long, I’d think. To accommodate for the interior space I need,” She began rummaging through her purse, “Just gotta get my driver’s license here, I swear to God that woman at the doctor’s office measured my height wrong last time and I’ll be damned if the last thing people see me is in a too-tight pinata.”
“You… are planning to be buried in a pinata?”
“No, not BURIED. Geeez, don’t you even know how a pinata works? Have you ever had a day of fun in your life, Teddy-gram?”
Ted desperately wanted to extricate himself from this conversation but he was the only one minding the showroom and he thought perhaps he could still salvage a DiamondPlus Premium™ package out of this one. Perhaps she was just pulling his leg and if he played along a little bit he could steer her over to the antique desk with its tasteful banker’s lamp and glossy brochures.
She was still talking.
“…if it can’t be a donkey, I’d be okay with a branded one, just not like, Dora the Explorer or something, I think that would be too weird, don’t you? Maybe like, Bart Simpson or whatever? It could even be a bootleg one, that might be funny…”
Ted coughed. “Miss, I’m sorry to interrupt but if I understand correctly you wish to be interred inside a pinata but not buried in it? How is this meant to work?”
“Well, I was thinking we could hand out some branded baseball bats and hockey sticks. You know, something personal, a real novelty item and a keepsake. Maybe my favourite quote is printed on there. So much better than those little folded papers with the psalms written on them, am I right? And I have a cousin who owns a crane company, so you don’t have to worry about that. I’ll provide the candy too, I have a Wholesale Club membership.”
Ted’s complexion whitened slightly.
“But don’t WORRY, I’ll still be purchasing one of your fancy fruit crates here to fall into because I already talked to the cemetery and they ‘frown upon raw corpses’. I think it’s ridiculous, really goes against the whole ‘dust to dust’ thing in my opinion, but you gotta play the game, eh?”
“I… I’m not sure…”
“Listen Tord, this is mostly all figured out, the only real problem I haven’t been able to solve is how to get the confetti cannons to go off. Like, can I connect it some sort of trigger switch that I hit on the box or on the way down? I made this little diagram…”
Ted looked over at the antique desk. The whole thing seemed to be gently undulating, as if it were a mirage.
“Do you usually have staff available that work these things?”
Blinking twice, Ted then nodded slowly, “Yes, we have ‘Consolation Care Consultants…”
“Are they strong? How much can they bench, would you say?”
“I don’t see how that’s relevant?”
“Actually, maybe it doesn’t matter, I’ve seen the tiniest people shooting off those t-shirt guns and I was thinking of making them crop tops too, so that would probably be less heavy. I just want to have things at my funeral that I was never able to pull off when I was alive. Do you have any staff photos? I’d like to see which ones have the most shredded abs.”
Ted looked down. He had gripped the side rail of the casket so hard he nearly left divots in the metal. He wasn’t sure how much time had passed but his underarms had never been this soaked at work before. Jesus, was she really still talking?
“… And I want them to say ‘I went to Sam’s funeral and all I got was this crappy shirt’…”
DiamondPlus Premium™ package be damned, he had to take a stand. He tugged at his too short tie gently and spoke with all the assistant manager authority he could muster. “Ma’am, I’m sorry, but I simply don’t think we can accommodate your funerary needs. And we’re closing shortly.”
She stopped talking, scratched the back of her neck gently and it seemed as though she had broken out of a trance. “Oh. I see.”
Ted sighed with relief as she zipped up her purse and turned towards the door. She grabbed the handle and turned back;
“Do you know how late PartyCity is open?”
