The Wife's Wake

Published 'Stuff' 1994 

There were no leavings for Leslie.  But when you are someone like Leslie, even the best end of the top layer has the look of scraps, the consistency of offal and the taste of waste.  Not that Leslie was particularly fastidious – simply a sensitive soul with an even more sensitive palate.  One day, Leslie’s wife returned from the dead. Not in all her gory glory, but decked in a gorgeous wedding-dress which she must have been given to wear in a place called Heaven.  Her face was smiling.  In fact, it could easily have been someone else’s face.  “Leslie, why did you kill your dear young wife?” it asked before a pause.  “Well, I wanted to ensure the tenderest meat for your funeral,” was Leslie’s well-considered answer, as he spitefully, if pointlessly, spat something through the apparition: a barbecued wad he’d been chewing since last week’s wake.

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