The Ladies' Room
“If I wiggled again, Great-aunt Gert was going to sit straight up in that pale pink coffin and give me an evil glare the way she used to do when I was a child and couldn't sit still in church. Not even in death would Gertrude Martin abide wiggling at a funeral, especially when it was hers. She'd been an outspoken, caustic old girl the whole time she was alive, and I had no doubt she could resurrect herself at the faintest whisper of queen-sized panty hose rubbing together as I crossed and uncros...sed my legs.I should have gone to the ladies' room before the service began. But my four cups of coffee that morning and the thirtytwo-ounce Coke I'd drunk on the way to the church hadn't made it to my bladder until the preacher cleared his throat and began a eulogy that sounded as if it would go on until six days past eternity. If the poor man was trying to preach Aunt Gert through the pearly gates, we'd all starve to death before he finished. Thank goodness I had a Snickers candy bar and a bag of barbecued chips in my purse and twenty extra pounds of pure cellulite on my thighs.MoreLess
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