Walter was not a young man but everyone at the wake was very upset. I was hoping that it wouldn't be that bad because I generally don't do well at those things. But sure enough, the last respecters were all basket cases.

I loved Walter. Everyone who knew him did. He was one of the most kind, generous, understanding people I had ever known. He lived his life, but the way he died was sudden nonetheless. Apparently he had a heart attack while eating Mary's world famous rump roast.

When I knelt down next to her in front of the casket I expected to see her distraught and weeping like the rest of us. Instead she wore a deeply sinister smile from ear to ear that immediately darkened my heart.

"Why are you smiling," I said, in shock. Mary looked me directly in the eye and said: "The last time I made him a roast he beat me senseless because it wasn't spicy enough for him. Well this time I spiced it up real nice for the son of a bitch."