THE EDITOR, Sir:
I was ever so late and I hurriedly wended my way to Central Avenue in Swallowfield, Kingston 5 to carry out the task I was paid to do. Money burning a hole in my pocket, towel in hand I stood outfitted in my sleek black attire, veil and all intact, waiting in eager anticipation to give a stellar performance.
As a professional mourner, my adrenaline was pumping and I was ready to spew forth copious showers from my tear ducts and thunderous bellows from my larynx. The wailing began and the torrents flowed. Somehow though I felt a bit of disquiet and looked around more keenly only to recognize that I was the only one standing beside this gargantuan grave.
STRANGE PHENOMENON
What could have caused this strange phenomenon I mused? To my distress I discovered that I was not standing at a graveside but strangely enough by a pothole. By the time I got to the real graveside the funeral was already over and I had to return the money to my employers.
I have subsequently turned the matter over to my lawyer who will file a suit against the NWA for robbing me out of my honest bread.
I am, etc.
Professional Mourner
Kingston 8
