Is This The Line For The Can?

“Did you see the photos of all those people lined up just to get a glimpse of Queen Elizabeth’s coffin?” Aaron asked.

It was a Sunday morning in Maine, far from the United Kingdom.  The best friends were seated on their favorite bench along the river.

“They weren’t there to look at a coffin, you peasant,” Holly chided him.  “They were lined up to pay their last respects to their beloved Queen.”

Aaron scoffed and took a long sip of his Snapple.

“But she’s not even their ruler,” he pointed out.  “She’s just a figurehead.  I don’t get it.  Then again, I’m from a country that was founded by people willing to risk their lives crossing an ocean and then fighting a revolution in order to get out from under the control of that monarchy.  The Brits are free from it, but allow themselves to remain under that family’s thumb.”

Holly shrugged and drank her coffee.  “I don’t know what to tell you.  The British are a different lot.”

“I know,” he agreed.  “They drive on the wrong side of the road, enjoy soccer, and foolishly believe their version of The Office is better than ours.  What an odd bunch!”

short story, humor, Modern Philosopher“I think there’s something nice about it,” Holly confessed.  “A nod to older, more noble times.”

“I read somewhere that Charles inherited a portfolio worth over a billion dollars from his Mom and he doesn’t have to pay any inheritance taxes.  If Bernie Sanders were still under British rule, the rivers would all be brown with tea and we’d be gearing up for the Second Revolutionary War.”

Holly chuckled.  “And you’d be incensed if he threw even a single bottle of Snapple into the river!”

Aaron nodded in agreement.  “I hate funerals.  The only reason I’d ever line up to see a body would be to get visual confirmation that an arch nemesis was truly dead, and not faking it to escape me.”

“Your hatred of funerals is well documented,” she assured him.  “I am well aware that you wish to be cremated and your ashes scattered in the outfield at Yankee Stadium.  I’m just worried that the Yankees won’t allow that.  What a I supposed to do with your ashes then?”

She looked at him with a mixture of concern and expectation because she had a gut feeling that he had an amusing backup plan for such an eventuality.

“I thought I was your best friend,” he began.

“You are,” she agreed.  “That doesn’t mean I’m going to get arrested for running on the field during a game to sprinkle your ashes.”

“You don’t have to do it during a game,” he countered.

“I’m not going to break into Yankee Stadium,” she informed him.  “Once they find out I’m a Red Sox fan, they’ll assume I was there to sabotage the place and lock me up for life.”

Aaron nodded and took a long drink of his Snapple.  She was making some excellent points.

flash fiction, relationships, Modern Philosopher“How about this?” he asked as the gears in his mind began to turn.  “Sneak my urn into the library.  At least then I’ll fulfill my lifetime dream of being on the shelf there, even if it is posthumously.  And as a pile of ashes, rather than as a published author.”

“Awww…” Holly made a face that was equal parts pain and sympathy.

Aaron was no stranger to that face.

“Are we done with this topic, or do you want to continue to mine it for comedic gold?” she asked in an attempt to change the mood after his depressing comment.

“The longest line I ever waited in was to get Kevin Smith’s autograph,” he obliged by shifting gears.  “It was at Golden Apple Comics back when I lived in California.  As you know, I’m a huge fan of the man, and at that time, I was definitely eager to meet an idol and have some of his magic rub off on me.”

Holly smiled.  Aaron so rarely spoke about his life in California.

“How long did you wait?”

“Probably a few hours.  This was when he was doing a Daredevil book and a Clerks one, so he had the movie nerds and the comic fans lined up around the block.  I brought a book for him to sign, the published screenplays for Clerks and Chasing Amy.  Loved both those flicks.”

Holly nodded because she had been subjected to more than one lengthy monologue about the virtues of both those films.

“What did you say to him when you finally got to the front of the line?” she asked.

Aaron frowned.  “I froze up.  There I was, face to face with one of my heroes, and I didn’t know what to say to the man.”

“Even though you’d had hours in line to think of something…”

Aaron shot her a look.  “I think I finally said something inane like I really love your work.  I should have had a dick or fart joke ready to tell.”

“At least you didn’t ask him if this was the line for the can,” Holly pointed out with a smile.

“That would have been hilarious, though,” he replied.  “Where were you when I needed you?”

Holly snickered and turned her attention to the river.

About Austin

Native New Yorker who's fled to the quiet life in Maine. I write movies, root for the Yankees, and shovel lots of snow.
This entry was posted in Humor and tagged , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

3 Responses to Is This The Line For The Can?

  1. markbialczak says:

    Yes, Austin, that is the right line.

  2. Pingback: We should all scream for this: Sept. 25 – A Silly Place

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