Page 12 of Bless This Hot Mess

Will you spy on exes through their walls?

It’s over, really over, after all!”

Japheth did a sort of locomotion train dance to join Rebekkah again and they stood back-to-back as they harmonized,

“Will you float above your friends unseen?

Helpful elf on the shelf or poltergeist mean?

Will you lurk behind a curtain?

Spooking kids gently, because you’re not certain

if death is a doorway or just a hoax.

Either way, you’re still dead, folks!”

People glanced at each other, unsure if this was a last request by Emma-Lou’s parents and decided as it didn’t appear to be stopping anytime soon, they may as well enjoy it.

Carrington tilted their head, “Sure, they can sing and they’re offering a sound we’re not serving at WWJD, but we can’t just say they won the contest. They didn’t even compete. They’re ineligible.”

“Is that in the rules?” Suwarna asked.

Carrington blinked, “It’s in all the rules of every gameever in the history of the world. If you don’t compete, you don’t win.”

“MMMBless, ba dupa DROP.

Bury me deep or toss me off a dock ba du yeah!

MMMBless, ba duba you better DROP.

Scatter me in a garden, plant me with your squash

Ba du! Oh! MMMBless ba duba do DROP.”

“How many people competed?” Suwarna asked, her curiosity piqued.

“Officially? Like, took the stage and performed?” Carrington looked thoughtful. “One. That Harlem Globetrotter wannabe with the impressive ball-handling and between-the-legs work. What? Itwasimpressive.”

“And how many people entered the1999 Not Short on Talenttalent show?” Suwarna urged Carrington on.

“Two,” Carrington replied, nodding toward Japheth and Rebekkah. “The impressive hoop-driver and these two.”

“So, they were supposed to perform?” Suwarna’s eyes widened. “Wait, hoop-driver? Are you just making up basketball innuendo now? And we only hadtwoentries!?”

“Rino Ferrari wasn’t lying when he said WWJD is in trouble.”

Rebekkah and Japheth were now leaning into each other, hands on knees and bouncing with the rhythm as they sang as if sharing a secret,

“Death comes quick, tip your undertaker.

Death comes quick, tip your choir.

Oh yeah! Can you tell me?

What happens when you finally go?

Can you tell me?