The Other Coast by Adrian Raeside for August 23, 2024

He looks good!

You might want to move those candles farther apart.

Earl’s last words were, “Are those headlights?”

Oh deer. He gots such STAGgering look.

Poor Mrs. Big Earl!

At least we still have Carl with us. At least until he screws up fatally.

What happened to the sausages and jerky?

I see little Earl among the mourners. And yesterday afternoon I passed a small park in the city where a lone fawn was standing at the center of attention from various pedestrians and a few cars that had stopped to look. Two hours later when I went by the people and cars were gone, but the little Bambi was still there, looking lost. I hope it’s just a coincidence. I’ll check again this afternoon.

Hanging on the wall? That’s not Earl. That’s Art.

It’s basically what you get at any open casket funeral. I had no desire to see what was the shell of my wife.

The rest of Earl fed two homeless shelters for a week. Rest in pizza.

Reminded me of the opening line to Rudyard Kipling’s poem, “If” “If you can keep your head when all about you …”