Death and Cotton Candy

"Switch? what color is the sky in heaven?"
"Blue."
"Are you sure its not like black, like outerspace?"
"I'm sure."
Shiloh Switcher was never sure of anything.
"I think it's black."
"Alright."
Shiloh Switcher pretended to be apathetic about everything.

Eilein dug the toe of her black mary-janes into the grass. "Switch?"
"Mmm-hmm?"
"I don't think Uncle Morty likes this place."

Shiloh surveyed the cemetery with his quick, darting, brown eyes.  The tiny statuettes, the crushed rose stems, the puddles collected in the stone crevices, the chipped edges of tombstones; all of it was thin and grey, like a pencil drawing.

He put his hand gently on her small shoulder. She squinched her face up and pushed her green, plastic glasses up the bridge of her nose. She sniffled.
"You alright, Alien?"
"Yes."
"Is here alright?"
"I think it's ok."

Shiloh crouched down and picked up the shovel. He dug the metalic point of it into the earth, lifting up loose, grey soil.

"Wait! I still don't think Uncle Morty likes it."

"You like it alright, old man?" Shiloh asked, speaking into the black plastic trash bag. "What was that?" He cupped his ear. "Huh? You do? Alright...yeah? Ok, I'll tell her."
He looked at Eilein very seriously. "He says to tell you that he likes it here just fine."

She playfully smacked his arm. He laughed and tossed the shovel down, the wooden handling clanking against a patch of granite.

"You have a funny laugh," she said through a stream of giggles.
"Alien, where do you want Uncle Morty to want to be burried?"
"That' a lot of want."
"Welcome to Watershed Heights."


The sun was nearly gone by the time they paraded over to the carnival. She insisted on dragging the garbage bag with the dead uncle inside it for part of the way.
"Can we get a dog?" She asked as the town varmint, Lucky, sniffed at the bag.
"No. They cause diseases. Give me the body."

Shiloh used the knife in his pocket, the one with the dark wood handle, to slice through the plastic. The usual crowd, ripe with popcorn and puke, had congregated at the other end of the field. The entrance had moved again and they were alone to hold their funeral for two, or three, but only if you count the dead man.

They didn't dwell too long on formalities, just said a few words, and dug a hole in the patchy grass and gravel. They dumped in the body, clad in his white Elvis suit, the suede fringe fanning out like wings as the dead uncle fell back into the earth.
"I think he'll like it good here."
"Why here?" He asked her.
"The pink lights won't let him be scared."
"He's not scared, Alien."
"Can we get cotton candy, now?"