A Hand with the Dishes
I phoned him a week ago and we exchanged pleasantries. "All well. Except, I'm in the dogbox of late."
Takeabody
“I’ve just had an SMS.”
“From?”
“Takeabody. Listen to this: ‘Good day. Collection of your husband’s body has been scheduled for no later than 5pm on Thursday 25 June. Please ensure that the corpse is in a hygienic state and lying in a supine position with straightened limbs.’”
“Thursday? But that’s tomorrow. It must be a mistake; I’ve been feeling fine of late. Or maybe it’s a scam. They send a fake Takeabody message, and when you respond, they offer to move the date if you pay a large amount into their account.”
“There’s a reference number. It looks authentic.”
“Well, if it is genuine, Their AI forecaster must foresee a heart attack, or a stroke, or something. At least, if it’s true, I won’t suffer a lingering death.
“We will just have to wait and see. What else can we do?”
“We can’t just sit around waiting. Let’s go out for a meal, and when we get back I’ll take some Viagra. How about it?”
“All right. You always said you wanted to go with a bang and not a whimper.”
From Fairy Tales and Nursery Rhymes.
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