Hollowed steps echoed in a packed church as the man approached the church podium. The paid speaker cleared his throat.
“Dearly beloved…uh…excuse me…” Hack, hack, hack…cough – he started again. “It’s a terribly day today and we are all mourning. When I was told of his death…for me…instantly time stopped and this now momentous memory is burned in my mind, forever. I had the pleasure of meeting the fearless man who so easily pioneered the very paths our careers follow today. He’s an icon in the publishing industry, a forger of best sellers, a pillar of society and his charitable contributions were endless.”
The reader stopped, trying to collect his emotions. Mewed cries and sniffles filled the room. The pause was needed for everyone.
He continued, grunting into the mic. “And this man…this man was a friend.”
Silence reigned among the crowd, except for the singular noise of cricket.
Finally a demand bellowed from the audience. “Is he talking about Evil Editor?”
Several communal questions moaned in agreement.
A wave of whispers carried to the reader himself. And then Ms. Snark tip toed in her red 3”Christian Dior heels and matching wrap around dress, inappropriately but impeccably dressed as usual. She whispered, “The eulogy is supposed to be for Evil Editor. He was no friend. Who the HELL are you talking about?”
Her stern tone carried through the microphone, vibrating loud and clear throughout the house of God.
The speaker answered back, “I’m sorry. I was told that John Grisham died and I was to give his Eulogy.”
Ms. Snark stepped up to the mic, “Alright…whose idea of a practical Joke is this?”
John Grisham, himself, stood up snickering raising his hand. “Guilty.”