So yesterday Mum called me.
Mum: Do you remember Bill McPorter? [not his real name]
Me: Ruth’s friend from school?
Me: Oh, he was an acolyte at church?
Mum: No, he went to the karate studio.
Mum: He was a black belt?
Mum: Well, anyway. He died.
Me: Sorry to hear that?
Mum: Would you like to go to the VHCS dance at the country club with me on Saturday?
Me: Is it formal?
Mum: Well, you do have to get gussied up. You have something to wear, I’m sure.
Me: I pretty much gussy down. But I’ll look.
Mum: I have to go to Bill’s funeral before that, I don’t suppose you’d want to go to that . . .
Me: Is it open casket? Oh….Now I remember you . . . sorry you’re dead.
No, I think I’ll stick with the dance.
Sounds like a Larry David episode, doesn’t it?