One Speaks Against the Dead

Hello…

Feyoh has gone out for a while and this here is Diva Sista Shaneekwa speaking to y’all.

That girl Feyoh’s right addled in the head. Yesterday she trudged through that maze of a cemetery, lighting candles for her family who already croaked and are now wearing white clothes, with wings growing out of their backs and constantly spend their time plucking harps and singing in heavenly voices… what-ever that means.

I so don’t like cemeteries, you know… being them house of those dead bodies and bones. You could get something there if you aren’t careful with where you step on. Who knows if that tomb you’re about to pass through is already ready to crumble, hurling you down to hug an open casket where a grinning skeleton waits? I shudder at the thought. The world has not yet produced the best disinfectant for cases like those. So… um, unhygienic.

There’s also the issue about heat. People like Feyoh choose to go to cemeteries when the sun is already high. I’d rather be eating a banana split in the shade. The sun could dessicate their brains, making them dumber as each day of the dead rolls around year after year. Believe me, by the time Feyoh reaches forty, her brain will be so shrunken and her skin will look like leather.

All that glare reflected by white tombs is so not good to the eyes, too. It makes my head swim, you know? Why on earth would anyone paint those dang tombstones white? Is there no other color in the paint store? Sure is drab. Why not splash on some pink or fuchsia here and there, or a dab of green or blue on the edges? And all those crosses? Puh-lease. Madonna is way past her prime already. Can’t those sepulcher have, like, crowns or statuaries?

And why the business of lighting candles in broad daylight? What’s the sense of illuminating stuff during daytime? Now, my momma used to say, only be a light in darkness. Folks like Feyoh sure are dumb, it must be something to do with their shrunken brains. And those candles are fire hazards, too, what with all those grass underfoot.

And Feyoh had to go for flowers. Flowers are so sentimental. You are there, still mourning, girl? Why not bring them some figurine from the shop or some trinkets? Better yet, why not stay at home and just have a banana split? Those dead ones are already dead anyway. They can’t use those dang flowers wherever they are. A plant can’t grow on a cloud, can it?

Oh… I hear the door opening… That girl’s back.

It’s been nice talking to y’all. I’m going out to have a pedicure now.

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