(An actual conversation between my husband and myself.)
Chris, have you seen the shovel?
It’s probably out in the garage. Why do you need it?
Because I have to go exhume a body right now.
Of course you do.
Specifically, I need to dig up the body of Jack’s fish, BlueBlue.
Yeah, last week when you were out of town. We had a lovely ceremony for him, too, despite the panty liner box I used as a casket. We all hummed “Firework” and swayed with pretend lighters.
I’m tearing up just thinking about it.
I was headed over to the pet store to buy another fish, but I then I found BlueBlue’s receipt and it says that if we bring in the old fish, the new one’s free.
Because it’d be ridiculous to just take the customer’s word for it, right?
Right. Because then people would be going in there all day long with black armbands on claiming their fish died. You know, now that I think about it, maybe next time I’ll videotape the fish funeral as proof. Throw in some stock footage of bald eagles flying over mountain tops and set it to some Boyz II Men. That’s what the Jackson family did when Tito died.
Tito’s not dead.
Anyway, I’m digging up the fish because the pet store’s policy says I have to bring in the dead body. You know, “Habeas Corpus” and all that.
(long pause) That is so not what “Habeas Corpus” means, Wendi.
Uh, yeah. Hello, McFly. It most certainly is. “Habeas Corpus” means “present the body.” Trust me, I watched a lot of LA Law back in the day.
And were there a lot of dead fish on LA Law?
I don’t remember because I only paid attention when Jimmy Smits took his shirt off. But I’m pretty sure the pet store’s policy includes a writ of habeas corpus. Or maybe it’s a “fish of habeas corpus.” Haha! See what I just there?
I’m trying very hard not to.
Oh, my God—I just thought of something else!
Pray tell, Alan Dershowitz. What has your genius legal mind thought of now? That the Miranda Warning only covers criminals who watch Sex & The City?
Come on, have some respect for the law, man. No, I just realized that the fish was maybe not quite all the way completely dead when we buried him.
I mean, he was mostly not breathing and looked a little pallid in the fin section, but—oh my God—WHAT IF HE’S A FISH ZOMBIE NOW? And if he is, that would be totally horrible because a) I don’t know the first thing about killing and/or grooming a fish zombie and b) I’ve been pretty resistant to the whole zombie craze up until now and I really don’t want to get in on it right when it’s losing its trendiness because that’s what happened with me and the teenage vampire thing and do you know how embarrassing it is to be the only person wearing a TEAM EDWARD shirt in the mall in 2012? The kiosk workers mocked me. Wait a sec—where are you going?
To get the shovel.
Oh, good—are you going to dig up BlueBlue for me?
Nope, I’m just going to just sit in the backyard and whack myself in the head with it until I pass out.
Okay, you go right ahead. But if you turn into a zombie, too, I want you to know that I’m probably filing for divorce.
Fine, but if you do, just promise me one thing.
That no matter what, you’ll be your own lawyer.