Funeral Arrangements

"I realize it's terribly short notice..."

"Not at all. The grave has been ready for over a month." Not what I meant, of course, but then, time is relative. Too short a notice, too long a wait, it all comes out to more or less the same thing in the end.

"I can perform the ceremony this afternoon, if you like," he continues. I can tell he's curious, but he's far too polite to ask. A sweet man, really. It's why I chose him for this little task in the first place. Well, that and the blindness, of course. Levitating boxes do rather tend to upset people who can actually see them. At least, I think those were my reasons. It's a bit hard to remember that far back.

"That would be wonderful," I say. "Thank you."

"I'll just go and make the arrangements then, shall I?" He wanders off. I smile at the nervous-looking employee who's been attempting to skulk unobtrusively in the corner throughout the conversation. He swallows convulsively and scuttles off towards the telephone, presumably to contact his Dalek-controlled masters. Good. That's going according to schedule, then.

If I have doubts about the wisdom of this plan -- which, after what the girls calling themselves Betty and Ragan have told me, I'd be foolish not to -- I attempt to not let them show. Why upset the others needlessly?

Speaking of whom... I pop my head back through the door and smile cheerfully. "All set," I say. "Or soon will be, at any rate. Ah!" This last exclamation is drawn from me as I set eyes on the results of their labors in here while I was arranging matters with the Vicar.

1. "Well, hello there," I say, as the fairy flutters up from the mouth of a bag and lights on my outstretched hand.

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