A Delicious Revenge
"Is that it?" Lucille said, twirling the IV between her arthritic fingers.
"Almost, ma'am," the lawyer responded. "There remains the question of funeral arrangements. Most of our clients prefer a black-tie, traditional funeral. But somehow I expect something more... extravagant from you."
Lucille looked down at her gold satin hospital gown and grinned. Her smile, yellowed with tobacco, still could've glowed off of a magazine.
"What would you prefer to be buried in?" he inquired. "Rhododendron Acres, our finest masoleum? A Grecian urn, crafted by the most experienced artisans in the world? Or perhaps I could interest you in--"
The lawyer's eyebrows raised behind his monocle. "I'm sorry?"
"Did you ever read the gossip rags, Charles? Back when I was a youthful lady, I met this handsome snake, Oliver. He slithered his way into marrying me, then he burned off half my inheritance on rest and some teenaged whore named Annette. You know what I did? I threw him out, and I told him to eat my ass. "
She laughed at his shocked expression. "Ah, but I never really got revenge. He already had my money; why should he care about me? So here's what I want, law boy: put the fun in funeral. I want parades going down 34th Street. I want all the guests wearing party hats. Fireworks, brass bands... and, most important, a special barbecue on the beach for my dearest ex-husband."
"Very well," the lawyer said, looking uncomfortable. "But... pineapple glaze?"
"Exactly. He'll get a very special slab of meat, pineapple glazed. He'll think it's pork, the fat bastard... and then, when he's licking his lips, I want you to have the butler deliver him a message."
The lawyer turned pale as he realized her meaning.
"That's right," she said. "Eat. My. Ass."