Arts Parents: Nan and Bill

..."My father was an undertaker, one of the few this city could boast of." Art began. Frank choked, "An undertaker! You mean he worked with dead people?"

..."No Frank, he did not work with dead people. His fellow employees were very much alive - let me assure you! He worked on dead people, preparing them for the grave." Art seemed slightly miffed, as though it were a touchy subject.

...Frank cleared his throat, "Um, did that make you - well, feel embarrassed or weird? I mean, having a dad who worked on dead people."

...A sigh escaped from Art. "Remember Frank, I was pretty young at the time. But yes, I remember feeling odd. When my dad's business was bad I felt guilty for hoping it would get better, that would mean more people died. And the other kids thought it was creepy, they avoided our house like the plague."

...Frank shook his head, "That's tough Art, and I thought I had it bad because my dad was a garbage man." A quick glance at his wristwatch made Frank eager to move on. He had a TV show to watch in just two hours. "Whats next?" he asked. "Did he bury a president or something?"

...Forget about my Dads job, he didn't bury anyone of consequence that I know of." Art said with another sigh. "My Mom on the other hand, she was amazing!"

..."What did she do?" Frank asked.

..."My mom was a laser surgeon, she specialized in extreme makeovers and delicate procedures. Why, she saved more people than my Dad buried!"

..."Probably why his business was so bad", muttered Frank, "They could have got something going there you know".

..."Good grief Frank!" Art cried, his eyes starting from his head. "My parents would never have come to an arrangement like the one you suggest, its unthinkable! I choose to believe you are joking my friend."

..."Of course I'm joking, what kind of creep do you think I am?" Frank demanded. "Besides, things like that do happen these days. Haven't you ever heard about that policewoman whose husband was a drug lord? Or the oil baron whose son was a speculator? What about that couple on TV, the husband was a recyclist and the woman a mass producer of plastic stuff; together they cooped a lot of money." (The government pays $4.00 a lb for recycled plastic material)

..."That you would even put my parents in the same category as that filth is inconceivable!" Art exclaimed. "Sometimes I wonder if your cranium is entirely okay, you probably watch too much TV."

..."How much TV do you watch?" demanded Frank.

..." Only a total of twenty hours a week, how about you huh?" Art replied.

...Frank knew he was outdone. "You beat me, I'm two hours above average at forty hours a week."

...Art snorted in disgust and then they both returned to their normal selves.

..." I won't continue with my parents story much longer, the truth is, I don't know that much about them myself. They were both pretty busy and I only saw them on the weekends, and then only a couple hours. My dad was always studying the online phone books, trying to guess when his business might get a raise. And my mom was generally consulting with patients who wanted extreme laser makeovers."


















...Art pulled up a picture of a sad looking woman. Frank thought she was nice enough, but rather depressed in her expression. As though wishing to lighten the atmosphere Art smiled and suddenly said -

..."Well, I do have a couple embarrassing memories as a kid that involve my dad. You see, the local thrift stores had certain days when seniors got a 60% discount. On those days my dad would gather hundreds of business cards (Bill's great Undertaking and Co.), myself, and a lunch for the two of us. He would drive to the nearest thrift store and take up a post at the entrance, I would guard any extra outlets and patrol the store. No one got past us. My orders were strict; bombard any senior "looking" citizens with business cards for my dads morgue. I can't tell you how embarrassing it was to approach sweet old ladies with personal invitations for grave duties - at my young age too, it seemed so presumptuous."

...Art had a hearty laugh, but Frank was shuddering. " That's disgusting Art, I cannot believe you agreed to do it."

..."Well, Dad was pretty adamant and it was 'for my good too' as he would say. Those were about the only Father/Son outings we had".

..." Well, the last thing I'm going to say about my dad has to do with my name. I was named after my great-great-great- grandpa Arthur, as you already know. But the reason I even know my great-great-great- grandpa Arthur's name was Arthur is because my dad discovered my great aunt BB through the morgue business.(And it was at a senior day thrift shop) He had never met great aunt BB before, though he had heard of her. When I was born she took to me immensely and told my dad to name me Arthur. Dad didn't want to at first, but one day he said he saw clouds in the sky which spelled Art backwards and took it as a sign. So he compromised and named me Art for short."

... Frank gave a long sigh of relief, "Are you done with your parents autobiographical speech?"

..."Funny Frank, and yes I am. On to Uncle Bob and Aunt Sal!" Art said, picking up the remote again.

..."Wait, you never told me how your parents died!" Frank surprised himself by asking.

...Art bit his underlip, "A tragic blunder involving some new fangled laser device. My mom was testing it on a plastic dummy and my dad had just arrived to pick her up from work. Something blew up and there was a fire, but I don't know the details"...