Death by Sarcasm Read Free

boxed crap for lunch. Old people just get into routines, Mary told herself when she finally gave up. They fall into routines, then they fall down stairs. It’s all a part of nature’s aging process. All part of God’s master plan.
    “Don’t forget my vitamin,” Alice said.
    Mary tipped a shot of Crown Royal into a small glass, added an ice cube and a splash of water, then brought it to Alice. Her aunt lifted the glass. “To Brent.”
    Mary clinked an imaginary glass. “To Uncle Brent.”
    “Butchered in an alley,” Alice said. “I keep waiting for the punchline.”
    “He was probably waiting for one, too,” Mary said. “I imagine he was spouting off, making a joke out of it.”
    The two remained in silence for a moment, both of them imagining Brent’s last moment.
    “You can’t kill me yet!” Alice said, lowering her voice to do the impression of her brother. “I just plugged the meter!”
    Mary smiled. “Wait, don’t kill me!” she said. “I have to find out who won the football game!”
    Alice laughed softly.
    “You’re going to kill me?” Alice said. “My wife’s been trying to bury me for years!”
    “Don’t murder me,” Mary said. “If I’m later for dinner, my wife will kill me!”
    They both laughed and then Alice drank down the last of her whiskey before speaking. “It just doesn’t make any sense to me. He could be a dick, we all know that. But why would anyone want to kill him? It just seems like a really, really bad joke.”
    You have no idea how true that really is, Mary thought to herself.
Bust a gut.
Real, real funny.
    “Let the police figure that out,” Mary said. “You focus on those parked cars.”
    Alice shook her head. “I think Brent was getting funnier as he got older. I think the dementia improved his sense of humor.”
    “Dementia?”
    “Did I say dementia? Maybe I meant demented. I don’t know.”
    Mary realized her aunt was having a senior moment while accusing another elderly person of having senior moments.
    “His sense of timing needed help, too,” Alice said. “Remember that time at Gladys Fitwiler’s wedding? That horrible joke in front of the wedding party about the donkey show?”
    “Ah, yes. A classic Cooper moment. Bestiality jokes involving the bride always go over so well at weddings,” Mary said.
    “Mortifying,” Alice said. “And how the hell would he have known? He’d never been to Mexico.”
    Mary went into the kitchen, drained the pasta and added the cheese packet. “Mmm, I learned how to do this from Emeril.”
    Mary put the pasta on two plates and brought it into the dining room. She wheeled Alice into her spot and got them both glasses of iced tea.
    For the first time, Alice spoke quietly. “Now I know that car was moving.”
    Mary’s fork hovered above her macaroni.
    “What car?” she said.
    “The car I ran into. Or should I say, ran into me?”
    Alice started eating her pasta, but Mary stared at the older woman.
    “What do you mean it ran into you?” she said. “You never told me that.”
    “Well the young officer made me feel like such a fool I didn’t think I should bring it up again. Dementia might be getting to me, too. You know, the other day I thought my neighbor’s shrub looked like Henry Kissinger…”
    “Aunt Alice,” Mary said, her voice firm, but sharp. “Please tell me what happened.”
    The old woman’s face wore a look of tired futility. “It’s like I told the young officer. I was riding my bike and saw the car. I was going to pull around it. I looked over my left shoulder to check my blind spot and then bam! I hit that darned thing. But there was no way
I
could have run into
it
, I’d looked over my shoulder when I was still a good fifteen feet away. That car backed up into
me
. And fast.”
    Mary stared at her aunt.
    “What?” the old woman said.
    Mary didn’t answer, her mind sifting through the possibilities.
    “I have to go,” Mary said, and started to clear her plate. “Set the alarm