“When a man was dead, it was the duty of those who had known him to look one last time at his face, to remember him. To speak over him. “He was a mean motherfucker,” Oscar Roody commented, tugging on the knot of his tie. “After a couple of beers, old Biff would as soon punch you in the face as look at you.” “That's a fact.” Less nodded wisely as he studied Biff's face. Rot in hell, you bastard, he thought. “Chuck sure knows his business now, don't he? From what I hear, Biff was messed up good an...d proper, but it just looks like he's taking a little snooze.” “Probably used a pile of makeup.” Oscar took out a bandanna and honked into it. “You ask me, it's gotta be creepy putting makeup on a dead man.” “I'd do it if it'd buy me a pool. I heard he got every bone in his body broke.” Less shifted, looking for evidence and for the thrill. “Sure can't tell it.” They moved on and snuck outside for a smoke. Jane was there, already seated in a chair at the front of the rows Griffith's had set up.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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