I saw a coffin today. On the ground. By the deli.
You can trust me about this whole event, because if I wanted to make something up, I’d make up something that sounded believable.
The casket was on the sidewalk, next to the bus stop, around the corner from our office. It was just lying there on the ground, in front of a store that had been out of business for a while. There was a piece of cardboard taped to the store’s window. It said, “Coffin. $100.”
It had seen better days, but it looked like it had been the fancy model at one time. It was gray, with long, silver handles on the side. I didn’t want to touch it, but Joe Ching, fearless and heroic Double Fine level designer, mocker of death, grabbed the lid and flipped it open.
The red velvet interior was soiled and moldy. Big, dark stains crisscrossed the fabric, and there was this white-ish, bread-mould-looking mess here and there. Where did all those stains come from? Had someone dug this thing up from a grave to sell it? If so, what had they done with the body after they scooped it out?
“Never been used!” said a big guy in a wife beater t-shirt, as he came out of the vacant store to sell us his coffin. He seemed very jovial, and more than a little proud of his casket. “Brand new!” he said with a smile.
“What?” said Joe, acting again without fear or hesitation. “What about all those gross stains in there?”
“Oh, I think that’s from all the sex.”
As if those were not the weirdest, most disgusting words he possibly could have uttered right then. I’m still not even sure what he meant. I mean, MY GOD, what could he POSSIBLY have meant??? I have been trying not to think about it since. And think I will never understand it, because I am officially wiping this incident from my memory… starting… NOW.
What? Where am I? Hello?