“Go away,” I snap, and roll onto my back. The memorial service is in three hours and I’m all out of ideas. I mean, Ruth was my best friend, but what are you supposed to say about someone who lies and sometimes secretly hates you and also hooks up with old men? Someone who you’ve already been trying not to be mad at for being dead in the first place?
This is like Garrison Keillor on crack and bitterness. "Well, that's the news from Friendship, where all the girls are vacuous, all the boys are narcissists, and all the parents are indifferent."