Slight Of The Living Dead
From a letter sent in March by Amir Vehabovic, a forty-five-year-old man who lives in Gradiska Bosnia, to his friends after only his mother attended his hoax funeral. TranslateD from the Sebo-Croation by Michael Leidig.
To all my dear "friends".
Some of you I have known since early school days, others I have only forged a relationship with in the last few years. Until my "funeral," I considered all of you close friends. So it with shock and, I admit, sadness and anger that I realized no one of you managed to find the time to come and say goodbye to me when you heard I was to be buried. I would have understood if just some of you came, bearing flowers or words of apology from others who could not make it. But no. Not a single one of you turned up to pay your last respects. I lived for our friendships. They meant as much to me as life itself. But how easy it was for you all to forget the pledges of undying friendship I heard on so many occasions. How different our ideas of friendship seem to be. I paid a lot of money to get a fake death certificate and to bribe undertakers to deliver an emty coffin. I thought my funeral would be a good joke---the kind of prank we have all played on one another over the years. Now I have just one last message for you: My "funeral" might have been staged, but you might as well consider me dead, because I will not be seeing any of you again.
To all my dear "friends".
Some of you I have known since early school days, others I have only forged a relationship with in the last few years. Until my "funeral," I considered all of you close friends. So it with shock and, I admit, sadness and anger that I realized no one of you managed to find the time to come and say goodbye to me when you heard I was to be buried. I would have understood if just some of you came, bearing flowers or words of apology from others who could not make it. But no. Not a single one of you turned up to pay your last respects. I lived for our friendships. They meant as much to me as life itself. But how easy it was for you all to forget the pledges of undying friendship I heard on so many occasions. How different our ideas of friendship seem to be. I paid a lot of money to get a fake death certificate and to bribe undertakers to deliver an emty coffin. I thought my funeral would be a good joke---the kind of prank we have all played on one another over the years. Now I have just one last message for you: My "funeral" might have been staged, but you might as well consider me dead, because I will not be seeing any of you again.
WFDS
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