Norton Macalister

Norton Macalister, a tall, distinguished British gentleman of sixty years of age, has stopped to blow his nose. After inspecting his handkerchief, as we all seem to do, he returns it to his coat’s breast pocket with all the points in their proper places. As he gives it a satisfying pat, he looks up to see that the funeral parlor across the street is holding a service for one Norton Macalister. Thinking it quit the coincidence , he decides to go and investigate.

Stepping inside, he notices that the place is nearly empty save for a coffin and the Vicar at the front of the room. Standing beside him is the funeral director welcoming people in.The director bows politely as he intones softly, “Good afternoon, Governor. Are you here to pay your respects?”

His bottom lip protruding, Macalister shakes his head. “No. I hate to admit it, but I’m here out of curiosity. You see, this deceased gentleman and I have the same name.”

The funeral director raises an eyebrow and chuckles softly. “My goodness, that is a bit of a coincidence, isn’t it? It would give me the willes, too, if I saw my name like that!”

Macalister strokes his chin as he leans toward the director. “It seems a bit empty, wouldn’t you say? And there is a real lack of flowers, too.”

The director leans toward Macalister in a conspiratorial manner.“Well, to tell you the truth, he was in charge of the local bank’s real estate and loans department. A real stingy bugger was he. Would reluctantly give out money but was quick to foreclose. I can tell you he caused much heartache for many folks around here!”

Macalister’s face remains blank until he raises an eyebrow. “I’ll have you know, my good man, that I’m the head of the real estate and loans department! Where did this, "pointing his fingerat the empty coffin", Macalister live, pray tell!”

“103 Lavender Lane.” the director replied.

“Preposterous!” Macalister shouts, his voice echoing throughout the room. It so severely startled the Vicar that he has to brace himself against the coffin. “I live at 103 Lavender Lane! What’s going on here?” Macalister turns on his heels and storms to the front of the room, the director in close pursuit.

“Pardon me, Vicar...?”

“Brown, James Brown.”

MacCallister scrunches up his face. “Uh?”

The Vicar laments, “I know.Papa’s got a brand-new bag!Oooh!”

“Well, what I need to know is who exactly is in this box.

”The Vicar raises his eyebrows. “There isn’t anyone in there. Lacking a body, Mr. Macalister is being buried posthumously.”

“Lacking a body? Of course, you’re lacking a body because I’m the body! I’m Norton Macalister! How the hell, begging your pardon, did this happen?” Turning to the funeral director, Macalister demands, “Who said I was dead in the first place?”

“Your wife Stellar called and asked us to handle the burial and write the obituary. It reads, “ Norton Macalister, born April 5th, 1949, died September 8th, 2009.”

Norton throws his hands into the air. “That’s it? That’s all she offered about me? My entire life reduced to nine words?”

The director casts his eyes to the floor and mumbles,

“She said she couldn’t think of anything else to say.”

Macalister sighs heavily as he collapses into a nearby folding chair with the name Stickly’s Funeral Parlor stenciled on the back. He looks to Vicar Brown. “When we were first married, I found her ditsiness somewhat charming, but now that she’s grown older, it is just an immense pain in my a—bum. Before I left, I made a large 4x4 poster, written in bold red letters, that I’d be in Uxbrige for two weeks starting up a new branch of the loan department. How could she not have read that? September 8th was only one week after I left! I suppose she called the life insurance company, and that’s how you've all gotten paid, right? Do you realize she’s wiped me off the face of the earth with one phone call? Once these things get into the computer, there is no getting it straightened out ever again!!” Norton stares at the casket. I don’t suppose I can get a refund onthat, can I?” The director smiles. “No.There are laws against that sort of thing, you know, once it’s been used and all.”

“But it hasn’t been used! It’s empty!”

“Yes, but it was intended to be used, wasn’t it?” The director smiles even wider. “Besides", he quips with a wink, you’ll be prepared if something comes up soon.”

Macalister explains how he had just arrived back in London that morning and went straight to the office to see if anything needed handling. “No wonder everyone there was looking at me strangely. Let me get my car from the parking garage, and we can load the casket in it.”

Stickly is waiting on the sidewalk when he sees a Mini Cooper pull up to the curb.

“How the hell are we supposed to get this in there?”

Norton explains, “ It’s got a sunroof. If we are careful, we can slide it in through the top.”

At every stop sign Norton comes to, people gawk at him, and he can’t wait to get home. He enters his driveway and stomps to the front door. When Norton enters his house, he is greeted by Stellars two pugs, Pooky and Porky. They’re making that skin-crawling noise instead of barking and are running and circling Nortons’s feet. “Oh, shut up, you nasty-looking bastards,” he shouts.

Stella emerges from the kitchen to see what all the noise is about and nearly jumps out of her skin. “A ghost! Norton has returned to haunt me. O’ Heaven help me, a ghost!"

Over the disgusting noise the dogs are making and Stella’s blood-curdling screams, Norton tries to get her attention. "Stella, Stella, it’s me! I’m Norton in the flesh, no thanks to you! Didn’t you see the sign I had left you? The one about being away in Uxbridgefor two weeks?”

“Is that what that was? All I know is that the floor was littered with paper when I came into the kitchen after kissing you goodbye for work. I imagine Pooky and Porky had chewed it up, so I cleaned up and threw it away.”

“Well, Stella dear, what made you think I was dead?”

Stella tips her head to one side and touches her cheek. “I suppose having not seen nor heard from you in over a week was quite unusual, and it occurred to me that it would only happen if you were dead.”

Norton takes his wife by both of her shoulders. “But why, Stella? Why should I suddenly be dead in a week after leaving home?”

Stella folds her arms across her chest and huffs, “You know very well yourself that people are always driving by and throwing eggs at the house or honking their horns and cursing you when you’re outside doing yard work! Perhaps one of those might have grabbed you and thrown you in the Thames to drown!”

“And you didn’t call the police?”

Stella’s mouth drops open. “Why should I? It was them who committed the crime, not you! You were the victim!”

Norton stares into Stella’s bewildered eyes with bewildered eyes of his own. He lets his hand fall from her shoulders and turns away. Stella hears him muttering something but asks no questions. “I was hoping for four more years until I retired. By then, I would have even more money, but now I’m dead, so I’ll have to live on what I have.” He turns back to his waiting wife.

“Stella, this will take some undoing with the insurance company. I’ll go there now, but don’t expect me to be home for dinner. I’ll call you when I’ve gotten everything straightened out.” Norton kisses her on the cheek and turns to leave, nearly tripping over one of the pugs. Stella waves goodbye with her handkerchief as she watches him go.

Norton takes a cab to the “You Store Warehouse” and signs in as William Perkins. He then unlocks a double-wide storage area where he has stored a Mini Copper, much like the one he left at home. After hooking up the battery, he pumps the gas and starts it up. Norton then takes a fake driver’s license from the glovebox and drives to a competitor’s bank. Taking one of the two suitcases from the backseat of the car, Norton enters the bank and walks to the desk of the person in charge of the safety deposit boxes. Here he is also known as William Perkins, tells her he wants to inspect his safety box. Once alone, he empties the box’s entire contents into the suitcase. It amounts to 1,546,000.00 pounds sterling in banknotes and coins he has embezzled over the past thirty years. Norton then drives to Heathrow Airport and boards a plane bound for the Bahamas. Norton has a beachfront bungalow in the Bahamas with a thirty-one-year-old inlander wife waiting for him. Looking out the jet’s window at the white, puffy clouds whizzing past, he wonders. "Now that he is offically dead, am I headed for Heaven or Hell? Tilting his seat back, Norton smiles as he decides he is defininitely headed to one hell of a Heaven.