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6/29/2011- DING DONG THE WITCH IS DEAD, THE WICKED WITCH IS DEAD!!!!!!!!!!
Ding Dong! The Witch is dead! Ding Dong the merry-oh, sing it high!! sing it low!! Let them know!! When they come and when they go!!! Hidee Hee! and Hidee Ho! The Wicked Witch is DEAD! Wheee-oh! The Wicked Witch is D-E-E-E-A-A-A-A-D!!!!! Yes, I suppose I have reduced my vibrations a smidge by this unspiritual mirth but the evil she has inflicted upon me passeth all understanding, is inexcusable, virtually unforgivable. I feel as if a massive burden has been lifted off my soul. She will have to answer for her behavior in the Afterlife.
The news came quietly. A few minutes ago I had spoken briefly with Roberto outside my apt door and had given him a free cigar as a friendly gesture. We chatted about why my electric bill is going up and up. He explained that when the meter readers cannot gain access to the meters because there is no one there to unlock the front gate, they just estimate the usage. Then they may make up the overage by reducing the bill the next time they read the meter. Of course, when I lived up front I always gave them immediate access but now that I am not there, there is no one responsible any more to let them in. So the gringo pays the price, of course.
A few minutes after our chat, Roberto returned and summoned me through the window. He advised me in a clinical matter totally devoid of any grief that "your landlady has passed". I expressed fake sorrow and shock. "It's OK bro." he said. I could detect no real sorrow or grief on his end. I asked him when it happened since I had just been talking to him a few minutes ago. He said it had happened a minute ago. He then walked up to the front to "join the family".
He returned in about 30 minutes and invited me up front to "see her". That was something I was not expecting. I threw on a polo shirt and walked up front in shorts and sandals. The house had about 10 people there milling around including a few relatives I had not seen before. I was allowed to enter the bedroom (my old bedroom) where she was lying in repose on a hospital bed with her hands folded in front of her. She looked like she was asleep to me, not dead. I felt like suggesting they give her a good shake to make sure she wasn't sleeping but that would not have been appropriate.Presumably those in a position to know the dynamics of croaking knew that she had died. She is resting in peace and so am I. There were no eats or anything since this was a recent death. It was 10:30pm and she had died at about 9:30pm. I was given a cup of coffee and I laced it with a slug of 12 year old Buchanan's scotch that had just been opened. There was no one interesting there to talk to and it was boring. I hung around for awhile, went back to the bedroom and stole one last glance at the stiff (my subconscious being fearful that she may have popped back to life?), and then went back to my apt. My prediction of death during the month of June had been dead on.
The next day I walked to the super 99 to do some food shopping and when I returned, the house had a cluster of Panas all scarfing out of the ubiquitous styrofoam clamshell take-out containers. I guess that is the El Cheapo El Costo version of a Pana wake. So appropriate for her. The styrofoam clamshell take-out container seemed like a good metaphor of her nasty mean bitter hardscrabble life. A larger one would serve perfectly well as her coffin.
...And I hope that you die
and your death will come soon
I'll follow your casket
on a pale afternoon
And I'll watch while you're lowered
down to your death bed
and I'll stand by your grave til I'm sure that you're dead
---Bob Dylan (Masters of War)
The End
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Originally Posted by EdBowers 
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