Forget Magazine. Remember, Remember, Remember.

Midway through the burial, my parents get out of their caskets and mingle with the crowd. Some of the guests are confused. My older brother and I try to get them back in their caskets. We tell them, "You are dead now, so you have to go into the ground," but they do not listen. My father puts soft dirt on his head to cover up his bald spot. He says,"I don't know why I never thought of this." My mother seems very pleased that she lost a leg in the car accident because she is now at her target weight. She also likes her new makeup.

People start to leave the burial grounds. A few try to comfort me, but they do not know what to say. My favorite aunt cries a little. My parents want someone to drive them home so I explain, "We sold your house because you are dead." They act like they cannot hear me. My brother lives in a tiny apartment, and my sister has kids, so I have to take them home. I help my mother hop to my car.

They do not like my garage, at first. I stop parking my car there, and move in a sofa and a bookshelf. My mother subscribes to some magazines, and reads them, on the sofa. My father plants something in the soil on his head. During the day, he stands next to the tiny window in my garage to give it sunlight.

A girl with very short hair asks me for a date. The restaurant is
shaped like a giant bowl. When the waiter comes, she asks him for his middle name, and refers to him as that. She blinks constantly, and lies to me about unimportant things. She smiles, slowly, when I look at her and say nothing.

John Campbell stands alone.