The Funeral Style

Chapter Twenty-Three

Sorry that I have not been updating. I seem to have a lot of ideas that don't work out the way I wish they did. 

I wish I could talk to someone about my ideas, but they always seem to think they are too strange to admire.

 I guess I'll just work them out on my own.

Chapter Twenty-Three

"Things are going to play differently here from this day on." Mr. Parity spoke, as all the women workers lined up, including myself.

We waited patiently for whatever horrid ideas he was ready to place upon us this time.

"I'm going to indulge more." He said with a grin, I couldn't help but notice the mask on his face seemed even more filthy than usual. "We as a family need to step up our game." He began pacing back and forth, "I want you all to be sweeter, kinder, more caring, and I want myself to seek more into every individual and enter their minds. Every single one of us needs to participate in pursuing complete supremacy over our dear guests."

He stared at each of our faces, as a frown overcame his own. "Do you not understand?" 

No answer.

He sighed, and pointed to himself, "I am king here. I am father, and I am comforter, but I am not the icon of the event. The dead is the project in the party, clearly all minds are on the loss of loved one. We need to change that."

I mentally scoffed at him, funerals were meant to be about the person who died. Not about anything else. As a man in this business, he of all people should know that.

"Now in order to present my ideal funeral, we all need to try harder. Which is why I'm going to have each of you to try harder." He pointed at me, and beckoned me to stand beside him as a presentation. I hesitantly walked over to him, and stared at him in confusion.

He unbuttoned the black sweater I was wearing and practically ripped it off, revealing my typical funeral dress uniform.

I began to freak out slightly as he started to unbutton the dress I was wearing from the back. I was about to shout at him, and tell him to stop, but I didn't need too. He stopped just before the buttons went too low. "Slip this on, Miss Adler." He ordered, as he grabbed a dress from the nearby table, and handed it to me. I hardly was able to glance at it before he rushed me into the other room so I could change. I put the outfit on in a hurry, not able to see myself in a mirror, I walked back out, feeling completely vulnerable in such an outfit.

It was a short, black dress. With such adequate designs. 

Mr. Parity stared at me, as I strode back up to him. A smile overcame his face, even the mask he was wearing was an intriguing synonym.

"Marvelous!" He exclaimed, as he reached his hands out long in presentation, "Simply divine! You will all look dashing in this new attire, I promise you that."

He told the other women to go change into the outfits, as he handed them all out. I didn't feel to comfortable in the dress at all. It showed no cleavage, or areas that weren't meant to be seen publicly, but I still felt exposed. It was fitting, and lovely, and not my cup of tea. The other women seemed to be just as disgusted as I was. It was as if he was just using us for the looks we present.

I followed him the same room where he seemed to show his true nature. The concrete walls and floors, the same familiar moldy rag in the table corner, and that same box of cigarettes, that seemed to be the only thing in the room that wasn't blanketed in a pile of dust. "What is it, Miss Adler?" Mr. Parity asked, as he took the mask off his face, and nearly jumped into the chair in the room. I watched as he took a cigarette and lit it with his silver lighter.

"I can't believe this." I started off, "It's one thing, forcing these women to work here by blackmailing them, but flaunting them as eye-candy? That's just insane."

He leaned back in the chair he was sitting in, and placed his feet up on the table, "I get that you don't understand how I run things here in my cemetery, but you should remember just that." His eyes, narrowed, "This is my cemetery."

"No. I do get that, I get how you are a complete control freak, and obsess over power." 

He slammed his hand on the table and abruptly stood up. "I love the women here. I would never consume them in my own self-entertainment."

"You're doing it now." I shouted, "Just as you always have done." 

He took a deep breath, as if calming himself, "What is it that I must prove to you?" 

I blinked at him, "What do you mean?"

"I treat you differently than the other women, Avril." He said my first name, again. "Surely you've noticed?" He glanced down at the cigarette in his hand, "Surely you've noticed you are the favorite?"

I gawked at him, not really knowing why he was asking that. Did it matter? He was still just as cruel to every one of us. "Is that why I'm the only one that you force to be by your side ever hour of the day?"

He scoffed, "So then, why do you hate me the most?"

"The same reason you love me the most." I admitted, feeling incredibly uncomfortably sorry to see him so desperate. 

"And what is that reason?"

"Because we are just too opposite to tolerate one another."