Pearl Before Death

Today we are burying Great-Aunt Pearl for the third time.

She literally will not die.

She was definitely dead the first time in 1996, but a few days after lying in the ground, that emergency alarm she had installed in her coffin the year prior starts going off, and what do you know, she's in her coffin telling us how much of a genius she is for thinking of that alarm.

She was most definitely dead that second time in 2008, but one measly month after her funeral, an emaciated Great-Aunt Pearl is standing on my doorstep, berating me for not including snacks in her coffin, and she's just so tired from having to reverse-dig herself out of her grave, and haven't I any manners or is she supposed to stand outside forever?

She is absolutely, most definitely dead this time. Deader than dead. I think Great-Uncle Jimmy poisoned her so he could finally get some peace, but I'm no tattletale. I'm not sure what's happened to her, but her knack for dying and reviving is really starting to get on some people's nerves by now. Hardly anyone is at her funeral this time, not that I could blame them. For all I know, there'll be another funeral for her in a few years. Sheesh. Some people are so stubborn.

I tried talking to her, you know? Like, "Great-Aunt Pearl, why do you keep coming back to life? It's creepy and we've already mourned for you. We can't grieve forever. It's okay to pass on, really. Think about it, okay? Thanks." I mean, she's not getting any younger. The doctors don't know anything either, but DNA evidence proves that she's been Great-Aunt Pearl this whole time.

We're burying her under the same gravestone we've used the past two times. We keep scratching off the date of death, and it looks pretty bad, but hey, dying is expensive, and Great-Aunt Pearl has a thing for it. Great-Uncle Jimmy shelled out for some iron bars this time, so I guess this really is the last time. I packed a box of Cheez-Its with her just in case, but I'm starting to have my doubts. She looked really awful at the service.

I give the ground one last hard pat with my shovel.

"Congrats, Great-Uncle Jimmy," I say. "You're free."

He looks grim.

I don't think he believes me.