} [Saccharine organ music swells as masses of flowers of every description
} appear surrounding an open coffin. The Oracle, wearing a serious
} expression and an ill-fitting, dark suit, walks slowly to the dais. The
} pews are almost empty. Four overweight women in identical cheap black
} dresses sit in a pew on the aisle, halfway back. Lisa sits in the front
} row, displaying slightly more cleavage than decorum might dictate. She
} is quietly pretending to cry.]
} Oracle: Dear friends. Dear, dear friends. We gather together here
} today to honor the memory of our recently departed and much lamented...
} [waves left hand in circular motion]
} [As if on cue, the four black-clad women burst into tears, sobbing in a
} perfect minor chord.]
} Oracle: ...friend and frequent petitioner at the altar of the Oracle.
} Knowing him as only an omniscient being can, it was only natural that I
} should deliver the eulogy. When our slightly putrescent friend expired
} Tue Aug 13 13:56:42 1991, the result of a binge lunch of anchovies and
} strawberry ice cream, he left behind many who shall miss him. There
} was... er... um... well, perhaps not that many. But he will be
} missed!! Who can provide the Oracle with utterly mindless, pointless,
} idiotic questions-and- I-use-that-term-loosely with his unique
} combination of studied inanity and determined banality? Yes, dear
} [The chorus of weeping abruptly ends.]
} Overweight Mourner #1: Sorry, dearie, your time's up. We have to get
} over to Brinkley's for a big funeral at 2:30.
} [The four mourners troupe out. Lisa is fixing her make-up impatiently.
} The organ music ends with a sputter of static. Two men in white
} overalls enter, close the coffin, and carry it out through a door marked
} "Parts Department". The Oracle shrugs, and leaves with Lisa on his arm,
} telling her dirty jokes. She laughs becomingly.]
} You owe the Oracle a nice bequest in your will.