Originally posted June 30, 2010.
Mr. Winchell walked into the room where Gwen sat nervously fidgeting from the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“So Mrs. Fritch,” he began, “you are very wise to plan ahead.”
The perfectly dressed Mr. Winchell kindly offered her some coffee or water to drink as he spread papers out on the table.
The smarmy funeral director lead Gwen through a series of questions from what kind of casket she wants to the kind of flowers and songs then gathered her vital statistic information to use for the death certificate, obituary, and eulogy.
“One final thing,” he said. “Where would you like to die and how?”