Test Pattern (2000)
“Delia says, checking her mascara in the rearview mirror as she edges the Nash into the procession from the Bide-a-Wee Funeral Home to the cemetery. The squat green car bolts as she shifts into second, cutting off the family of the deceased and almost ramming the hearse. Lorena catches a glimpse of Maybelle’s gardenia-smothered coffin, pictures Maybelle’s sturdy little body lying within, tiny hands folded in repose over her bosom.
“Spit curls,” Lorena agrees. “The woman never wore a spit curl in... her life and her forehead was just crawling with those things.”
“And that dress—all those frilly ruffles.” Delia shakes her head. “I tell you, orange is not her color. Jeez Louise, if she had known how she would look at her last social appearance, why, I think she’d still be alive today, she’d be so mortified.”
Lorena thinks that if death could be defied by simple mortification, she might live to be a hundred, but all she says is, “She looked like Carmen Miranda, for God’s sake.MoreLess
“Spit curls,” Lorena agrees. “The woman never wore a spit curl in... her life and her forehead was just crawling with those things.”
“And that dress—all those frilly ruffles.” Delia shakes her head. “I tell you, orange is not her color. Jeez Louise, if she had known how she would look at her last social appearance, why, I think she’d still be alive today, she’d be so mortified.”
Lorena thinks that if death could be defied by simple mortification, she might live to be a hundred, but all she says is, “She looked like Carmen Miranda, for God’s sake.MoreLess
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