Sun, 19 Nov 2006

stone
My friend Brian, whose father owned a company that manufactured headstones, told me he had inherited the business after three years of legal shuffling, a bout which had essentially drained the company dry, a business for which he never had any interest, so that he wanted to know if I knew of any brokerage house which would buy the remaining stock and sell it at some estate sale, as he wanted to be rid of it as soon as possible, but I told him I had a better idea, and for three months Brian and I drove around the country secretly installing headstones in the recesses of public parks, in the hidden corners of playgrounds, in unmarked alleys, at the ends of unmaintained highways, in swamps and wheatfields, in sewers and behind gas stations, at the foot of overpass columns and electrical stations, any place where they would for a time remain unnoticed, each of which carried the name of one of our friends. Our enemies, we decided, would be best forgotten.
(03:25.11.19.2006) [/scrytch] #