CHAPTER TWO


As Keith pinched the last half inch of the joint and put it to his lips, he turned around and squinted back at the church. People were starting to file out and head towards them for the final portion of the ceremony. As he inhaled deeply and held it in for a moment, his eyes searched the parking lot for the ambulance which must surely be there by now to deal with poor old Grandma Luna. It wasn't there yet. Oh well, he thought, just a matter of time. They probably aren't in that much of a hurry because she's already dead. Slackers.

He turned back around towards the middle of the circle he and the others were forming and refocused his attention to the solemn conversation they had all been engrossed in for the last five minutes. Anthony was speaking now.

"I'll admit to you that Bird was better from downtown, but in no way did he have the same explosiveness as Jordan."

"Agreed." said Thomas. "But I'm only saying that he was a better shooter, not a better player."

"I don't know, Jordan had that nasty fade-away."

Keith felt that it was time that they stopped their stoned ranting and perhaps focused on the gruesome task at hand. He gave them a serious look and they fell silent. He needed to explain how it was all going to work and how they were going to return all of the equipment after it was over. He needed to tell them that it was important that everything go exactly according to plan. He needed to tell them how much he appreciated all that they had done to help make this happen. He needed to tell them a lot of things and there wasn't much time. What he said was,

"Fellas, you remember that time Jordan blocked that one guy with both hands at the end of the game when he was playing with the Wizards?"

Keith was pretty stoned.

"Hell yeah." They said in stereo, from his left and right. This made him think of stereos, and that made him think of the time he used to sell stereos out of his van, and that made him think of when he had bought that van from the church with Paul, and how Paul had low-balled the little old lady who was selling it to them and then laughed about it afterwards.

Paul.

His mind stopped racing.

This was Paul's time. This was Paul's time and they had to Keep It Together. Why on earth had that bastard decided they should smoke weed before they did this crazy shit?
He probably did it so that on the off chance that there was an afterlife, he could at least look down on them and have one last demented laugh at their expense.

Keith had no way of knowing this, but he was exactly right. There was an afterlife, and Paul was watching them right then, trying and absolutely failing to deal, and as much as it's possible for someone who's dead to do so, he was dying laughing.

The crowd of mourners had reached them. There were about fifty folding chairs set up along both sides of the platform the Circus Cannon was resting on. Some of the people sat, but most chose to remain standing in the presence of something so vast and surreal. It was a sight most had only seen inside a circus tent and out here juxtaposed against the glorious backdrop of nature it had an entrancing effect. No one spoke. Everyone just stared.

It was painted fire engine red, and had blue and whites stars running down it's considerable length. At the base was a table with some flowers on it. Anthony thought they'd look classy.

After a few moments of silence, Keith recognized his cue, took a deep breath, and then took the stage.

All eyes immediately locked on him, asking him silently as one voice to tell them all what the hell was going on.

He cleared his throat.

He cleared it again.

He had tremendous cottonmouth and would have literally stabbed someone in the voicebox for a Slurpee.

"Hello everyone." He began.

Not a bad opening, he thought. He had to stop thinking.

"My name is Keith Scannell and I am, or was, one of Paul's best friends. Towards the end, when he knew that the cancer was...I mean...When there wasn't much else we could...When he knew it was almost over, he took me aside and expressed to me what he wanted to happen on this day. And while some of it may seem strange to others, Paul knew that anyone who knew him, knew that there was only one way that he could do this. I just wanted to let everyone know that what happens now is all according to the exact letter of Paul's Last Will and Testament. Thank you."

Keith took some safety goggles from his coat pocket and raised his voice slightly, "Hit it, Tony."

Tony held his breath, turned his head away from the control panel because he didn't want to witness himself doing this, and touched the button marked with a triangle turned on it's side.

Immediately sound from the giant speakers mounted on the base of the platform issued forth with all the cosmic majesty that is Jefferson Airplane/Starship.

"WE BUILT THIS CITY...WE BUILT THIS CITY ON ROOOCK AND ROLL, BUILT THIS CITY, WE BUILT THIS CITY ON ROOOCK AND ROOOOOOOLLLLL"

At the same time that the song began, Thomas began wheeling the very hospital bed that Paul had lain in for the last two weeks of his earthly existence out from behind the Cannon, where it had been hidden. He reached the base of the cannon just as Keith and Anthony met him there. He made eye contact with each of them and then reached down and took hold of the white sheet that covered the body of their dead best friend. He steadied himself and then pulled it off with all of the flair he could muster. And then, in accordance with his crazy friend's last wishes, and even though no one could here it over the music and startled gasping anyway, he said what he was required to say,

"And the flowers, are still standing!"

It was Thomas' Bill Murray impression that had kept Paul smiling through the painful months of Chemo, and he said he wanted to hear it one last time. So Thomas said it and looked down at his friend, knowing full well why the crowd had started gasping.

Paul had been dressed as a clown.

He was in full make up and had the red nose, wig, big shoes, and everything. He also had a helmet on, which didn't make any sense to his friends, but they figured they were far enough gone from the realm of sanity already to question why he'd want to protect his head, which no longer needed any sort of protecting.

They loaded their friend into his Death Cannon. When the cannon had been sealed and was primed to fire, Keith nodded at Anthony and he cut the music.

Keith addressed the crowd a final time.

"Friends, I give you Paul Nathan Ramoso...Or..." Here he began to choke up,

"Ram-boso The Clown."

He pulled the firing cord with all of his might and watched with the hundreds of onlookers as a great puff of smoke emerged from the end of the cannon, followed directly by Paul's Six-foot Three-inch frame.

He rose triumphantly over the water and seemed to be floating for a moment in the upper reaches of the atmosphere. At that exact time, according to plan, the tape that Anthony had started playing when Keith pulled the cord blared into life. It was Paul's voice, and it was singing The Star Spangled Banner.

"Oh say, can you seeeeeee, by the dawn's early liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiight, what so proouuudly we hailed, at the twilight's last gleaming..."

The crowd watched the body and listened to the voice of their Dear Departed Paul, who was completely butchering the National Anthem, in total silence.
Only when the clown made contact with the ocean and sent a giant plume of water into the air did they make an "Ooohh" noise and look around at each other, coming out of their own individual trances.

As the song reached it's screeching conclusion, Keith, Thomas, and Anthony stood together and looked out at the water with a smile on their faces, happy to hear their friend's voice one last time.

"Oh saaayy does that Star Spangled Baaaanneeeerrrrr yet waaaaave, o'er the Laaaaannnd of The Freeeeeee, and the Hooome of the Braaaaaaaaaave."

And then, after a pause that was just the right length, the voice said, "Play Ball!" and laughed.

Everyone cheered loudly.

They loved their Paul and knew that he meant it was time to start drinking.