The Loved One Page #5

About Los Angeles

And now

'Tis here

You'll lie

Here

Pickled in formaldehyde

And painted like a whore, shrimp pink

Incorruptible

Not lost

But gone before

Hello. Oh, I'm sorry.

I didn't mean to frighten you.

I'm afraid my memory's very bad

for live faces.

Tell me something.

Do you come here often?

Yes, I do. I come here almost every day

to have my lunch.

Tell me, what do you think about

when you're out here all by yourself?

Oh, just death and art.

Half in love with easeful Death

- What did you say?

- It's a poem.

A poem?

Are you a poet?

For many a time

I've been half in love with easeful Death

Called him soft names

In many a mused rhyme

To take into the air my quiet breath

Now more than ever seems it rich to die

To cease upon the midnight with no pain

- Did you write that?

- Did you like it?

Oh, yes. It's beautiful. Did you write it

since you came here to Whispering Glades?

No, no, no.

It was written a long time ago.

Well, it couldn't have been lovelier

if you'd written it right here.

It must be a wonderful, inspiring thing

to be a poet.

Oh, you have a rather poetic

occupation yourself.

Yes. Yes, I know I have.

Are some of the loved ones

better to work on than others?

Oh, yes. When a person has soul,

it makes all the difference.

When there's soul,

there's something to inspire you.

Tell me something.

Would it inspire you to work

on a loved one who was like me?

You'd be difficult.

You're the wrong age for soul.

It comes more naturally

in the very young or the very old.

But I'd certainly be inspired.

It would be marvelous to work on a poet.

Now, more than ever

Seems it rich to die

I'd love to read your poem sometime.

I'll send it to you.

That is, if you'll tell me

your name and address.

- My name is Aime.

- What a pretty name. Is it French?

Oh, no. It's after Aime McPherson.

- Well, I have to be going.

- Wait.

- Where shall I send the poem?

- Oh, just send it here to Whispering Glades.

This is my true home.

- We're running late, Joey. Goose them up.

- Right.

Above the love of the flesh,

dear brethren, there is a higher love...

...a purer love, a fuller love.

A love which can only be described

as true love.

Richard, wilt thou have this woman

for thy wedded wife?

I will.

Patricia, will thou have this man

for thy wedded husband?

- I will.

- Repeat after me.

With this ring, I thee wed.

- "With this..."

- Those whom God hath joined together...

...let no man put asunder.

By the authority vested in me

by the state of California...

...I now pronounce you

husband and wife.

Hey, Mert.

No, you jerk. On the casket.

All set? Go.

Let us bury the great knight

With the studio's valediction

Who has since suffered

A form of major constriction

They told me, Francis Hinsley

They told me you were hung

With red protruding eyeballs...

I wept as I remembered how often

You and I have laughed about Lo...

Taking him all in all, this was a man.

Unto almighty God, we commend the soul

of our loved one departed.

Gibberish. Filthy gibberish.

Well, if you'd only taken the time

to read it beforehand.

I have more important things to do

than to read your doggerel.

- Doggerel. I see.

- Amen.

- Amen.

- Amen.

I don't know what your game is,

Barlow, but...

Can we please have you looking over here,

Sir Ambrose?

- That's fine. Hold it there.

- Thank you, sir.

- Thank you.

- One more, sir.

- Just get one more.

- I'd be delighted.

Right this way. Thank you.

- I'm sorry, kid.

- Thank you. Thank you very much.

I sure did feel bad about your uncle.

He's the one learned me good English.

The consul happens to be a personal friend.

He'll be told of your scandalous conduct.

Take my advice. Get out of this country

before they throw you out.

That may be a little uncomfortable.

The police have developed new methods

of dealing with hooligans like you.

Dogs and cattle prods.

Hey, kid, what's with His Lordship?

I think he didn't like my poem.

He's anti-art.

- Well, what are your plans now?

- Very flexible at the moment.

- I've just been thinking. I've got a plan.

- What?

As a matter of fact, I've got a proposition

for you. You just leave it to old Harry.

You know something?

You look great in black.

Arthur.

You know, we're due at the Atwells'

in 10 minutes.

- Go on, break the house!

- Stop it!

I know one thing only. I know

that Arthur's dead and you killed him.

- I did not kill Arthur. Come in.

- Yes. I'm...

I know who you are, young man.

Just come right over here.

Just wait right here for a minute

because my wife is a little upset.

Will you wait here, please?

- That was a damn silly thing to say to me.

- Silly?

- Yes.

- Yes, yes, of course.

Well, you think everything's silly.

This house is silly, I'm silly.

The president is silly.

And Arthur was silly.

If you really loved Arthur

as much as you say...

Where Arthur was concerned,

you never even gave love a break.

But you could have tried.

- You mean?

- Yes. Dr. Sallert could have helped you.

Helen, dear, we've got to decide

about the services for Arthur.

We can't keep the Atwells waiting.

- Must you make a farce out of everything?

- Oh, Helen.

Send him away.

Helen, we've got to settle this

once and for all, for everybody's sake.

You filthy swine.

- Why must you always hurt me?

- Helen, please.

All right.

Have it your own way.

You always do.

I want to conclude this business

as quickly as possible.

Come on. Hurry.

Let's get to it.

- All right. Come on, kid. Let's get to it.

- Yes, of course.

- Which service have you decided on?

- Well, I don't know.

We can give you entombment,

empyrement...

...dissemination or eternalization.

I don't know what you're talking about.

Well, that would be embalmed, buried,

scattered or burned.

Burned. That's good. Burned.

Now then, let's see. Will you require

a niche in our Sanctum Sanatorium?

Or would you prefer

to keep the ashes at home?

Not at home, pal. Not at home. No.

- If you'll just sign the order form.

- Yeah. Get this over with.

- Where is the loved one?

- Oh, you mean, Arthur?

He's in the kitchen.

I put him on the breakfast bar.

- Get him out of here.

- Every anniversary...

...a card of remembrance

is sent without charge.

It reads, "Your little Arthur is thinking

of you, wagging his tail in heaven tonight."

That's beautiful, very beautiful.

Don't touch Arthur!

Helen, we're five minutes late now

for dinner at the Atwells'.

- Helen, please.

- Stay where you are.

Shall I put my hands up?

- No. Take Arthur and go.

- Don't you dare.

Helen, this is ridiculous.

I'm getting hungry.

Stop!

All right. Go ahead and shoot me.

Yes, you'd like that, wouldn't you?

Always wanting the easy way out.

- Well, this time you're not going to get it.

- Stop. Stop it, Helen. Stop.

No. No, I don't want to live.

- Really, I don't want to live.

- Take Arthur and run.

Arthur. Arthur. Oh, sweet Arthur.

- Hello, operator?

- Arthur.

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