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It was a dark and stormy night.
“You know, we didn’t think this through properly.”
“You think?”
It was around 11pm, on one cold Sunday night. The dark night was filled with an air of mystique and melancholy.
I wiped away my tears. It was all over. At least, as far as we know it.
“Get your ass over here and help us, Coco!” Ziggy yelled.
I ran up. Ahead of me, three creatures of excruciating beauty, all dressed in solemn black, dragging the lifeless corpse
that made a haunting screech across the hard unforgiving cement floor.
“How far away is the cemetery?” Sugar piped up.
“Around 2 hours away. So, it seems I’ve been the only one working out. I’m doing all the work here!” Kookie grunted.
“I’m helping!” Ziggy, Sugar and I retorted, barely hanging on while
Kookie dragged it, and us, up a steep slope.
“Whose idea was it to dress up and wear heels?” They all looked at me.
“Well, it is a funeral! We have got to pay our respects by dressing appropriately.” I paused to take a breath and looked
up. We have a long way to go. Then, something caught my eye.
“Hey, why don’t we plot the grave over there?”
“Where?” Sugar and Ziggy sighed with relief.
I pointed over to the playground.
“Over there. See, there’s a sandpit. That’ll be easy to dig –“
“GREAT IDEA! Yes, let’s do that!” I have never seen either of them move so quickly.
- Five minutes later -
Our shadows loomed over a square-ish sandpit in the middle of a children’s playground in the park. Ziggy wiped the
tears off her face, while Sugar sniffed softly on her hankerchief. Kookie’s eyes were completely bloodshot, and I felt like
someone’d punched me in the stomach. It is not easy to cope with such a huge loss. Finally, Kookie broke the silence.
“Did anyone bring a spade?”
We all looked at each other.
“How about some sporks?” Ziggy asked while whipping out a bunch of sporks from her bosom.
“Why not?” We got to work, spooning and stabbing at the sand.
- Another five minutes later -
“Hm. It appears that the fork portion of a spork makes for a rather poor digging device.” I announced.
“Imagine that!” Sugar replied, and sat down on the floor, defeated.
“No, no! It’s working! Come, feast your eyes on my hole!” Ziggy announced. We all peered over her shoulder.
There’s hardly a dent in the sand. Ziggy looked back at us with a sheepish grin.
“I don’t think I can do any better than this.”
We all nodded. Diggers, we are not. Plus, really, how deep can a sandpit be?
Ziggy drew a circle around on the sand, and we all placed some firewood around it. We then set our beloved
in the middle of it all. Huddling close together in a group hug, we bid farewell to our fond friend. The life it carried!
The happiness it has brought us every Sunday night! Oh, the memories!
After a most fiery and inappropriate dance around our makeshift graveplot, we all took turns to bid farewell to our
wonderful friend with some parting gifts for the occasion. A sideburn from Kookie, a spork from Ziggy, the other
sideburn from Sugar, and a feather boa from me. Then, finally, we took out a crudely made Playdoh Maori Love God
and his pal, Curly Hair Unicorn and placed them gently onto the ground to mark the spot. They smiled serenely at us,
as if to say everything will be all right. Will it?
“Ready?” Kookie asked. We all nodded. I flicked the lighted match onto the pile, and we let our grief wash over us.
- Fifteen minutes later-
“Dearly beloved, we, the ladies of TMiH, are here today to lament the loss of one of the funniest, hottest, cutest,
best written and acted, best directed comedy of our time. We shed our tears, for we don’t know if there will ever be
another season of this magical show, and we shed them here tonight. Oh, why must you leave us so soon, only after
two seasons?” Kookie's voice tightened, and Ziggy handed her a fist full of tissues.
"Goodbye, Bret, and goodbye Jemaine! Please come back to us!" Sugar and I cried. Then Ziggy spoke up.
“But if you must leave, we will never forget you. You are an inspiration to all parody folk bands in the world,
and no one could ever look as good in those tiny, tiny pants. Amen.” And with that, the end.
We all blew on our noses, Sugar blew on her harmonica, and we did the only thing we know how to – make sweet,
sweet music:-
Through the good times and bad
Through the laughs and the tears
Through the big brown eyes of a weedy lad
Through the black rimmed specs atop two manly ears
We saw our future
We saw our destiny
To sing songs of revere, it was a pleasure
To be in a band of four ladies
Is this the end?
Is this the last of their journey, together?
Tonight, alone together we stand
In a sandpit made up of sand and feather?
Goodbye, FoTC!
We will always love you
So, if you’re not too busy -
oh, pretty, pretty please?
A season three, sometime in the distant future?
Apart from the stench that is melting plastic, all was good. The fire danced in the dark, making a lovely mesh of reds,
oranges and yellows across the pale blue sky. Warming our hands in the fire, we stared at our reflections on our
burning television set for the last time.
It was a dark and stormy night.
~Coco Cabana
6:46 PM
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