Moonlight slides across me like a silken veil illuminating every embarrassing crack on my body. My perpetually vertical-cum-horizontal form gaze listlessly at the starless night sky. A green lace of moss creeps along my side. I loathe the sight. I mean, the authorities pay the sweeper to keep the surroundings clean. But he turns up just once a week, waves his broom like some ritual and then sits on my lap swiping mindlessly on his mobile phone. I wish he swiped on my dusty surface too.
You know what disgusts me even more? Lizards! The horrid little creatures treat me like a slide in the playground. They climb up flicking their tails, darting their tongues, brushing their cold bellies on my engraving. One even laid eggs and now I’m their official childcare centre! It’s humiliating for a granite of my stature. After all, I’m a tombstone housing a ghost in the graveyard!
Speaking of ghost, my owner, Frank seems quite busy lately. The poor lad arrived recently, looking like someone whose mobile ran out of charge. Initially, he crouched despondently within me the entire day. However, ever since he met the new entrant, a pretty lass, Rita, he’s been acting like a zealous teenager with an unlimited data package. His eye sockets dangle like puppets on strings when she smiles coyly at him. Every night, they stroll around the mausoleum like the lead pair of some Korean paranormal rom-com.
“Join me for a late-night stroll?” Frank sarcastically winks at me.
I wish I could squeeze the life out of him.
“Eternity is my middle name, Frank,” I retort. “I’m the wait.”
“You’re my rock-solid support, buddy,” he guffaws at his own joke.
“Off with your cold bum, dummy. And make sure to wipe your ectoplasm off my belly before leaving.”
Just then, a pigeon decides to make me its restroom. My grin vanishes faster than the relatives who disappear when the bill arrives at a restaurant.
Frank holds his non-existent belly and rolls on the grass laughing.
“Suck it up, buddy,” he cackles. “Try rolling over and get yourself cleaned. Wait, wouldn’t that make you The Rolling Stone!”
Slow claps for his dead humor, people. The guy rarely gets an opportunity to impress his girl. Grinning silently, I shoo them away. The two levitate like helium balloons.
I hear a faint chuckle. It’s my new neighbor- the alabaster headstone. Gosh, she’s damn cute!
“It’s a shame that your handsome granite body is uncared for,” she cooed. “I have an idea to get you cleaned.”
“Really?” I ask enthusiastically.
She glares at the lazy gardener who’s watering the plants, and grunts loudly. Startled out of his wits, the gardener turns to the other side and showers on me. Ah! The cool water chills my soul and clears the bird shit away.
“Thanks,” I grin.
She blushes.
I’ve learnt an important lesson today- sometimes Lady Luck smiles at you when you’re doused in deep shit.
