Simeon had been the caretaker for Bright-ridge cemetery for the better part of four decades. Nightly strolls through white marble glistening in the moonlight never failed to bring a tear to his eye as he marveled at his handiwork. Simeon had recently taken on his thirteenth understudy. As his hands have begun to betray him and his eyesight steadily fading, he knew soon he would have no choice but to hand over the keys to a younger suitor. Over the past several years he courted many youthful personalities, eager to learn the tricks of the trade and eager to please Mister Simeon. The newest young lad, Reginald, was no different. Simeon has tested Reginald’s stomach for dark humor and his knowledge on meteorology as it relates to caretaking duties. A brain for scheduling, Reginald was punctual but overly critical of Simeon’s lack of urgency in finishing tasks as quickly and efficiently as possible. Simeon took care to remind Reginald that death waits for no man and often strikes when least expected. Reginald scoffed at Simeon, and turned back to his last test, the one of brute strength and endurance, hand digging a grave for a service to be held in the morning. It seemed Reginald had been digging for what seemed like an eternity, when Simeon beckoned for him to join him in a toast. Together, they raised a glass, “You digging prowess is unmatched…” Reginald gasped and collapsed into the hole he had dug. His eyes glazed and breathing shallow as he felt wet, cold, red clay spray against his body. Paralyzed, he could not move or make a sound. He only heard the fading words “…only by your ability to make a grave mistake”. Simeon continued his musings while making final preparations for tomorrow’s service. He made a mental note to run an ad in the local paper in hopes of finding a suitable successor. These unappreciative young men, just won’t do for my beautiful marble garden.