Journal entry, 9 Messidor 223: As evidenced in past writings, Minotaur has expertise both in marketing and speaking at funerals.
He has now combined those two passions to create a niche marketing service for funeral parlors (“with premium rates–I can already smell the money coming in!” he exclaims). He does not have any customers yet but is working on a portfolio of ideas to use in promoting his business. Most of his focus in the draft materials is on naming funeral homes–“for it is the name whereby one thing is distinguished from all others under the heavens”–and on a “strong slogan–stronger than Bunyan, if that is possible–oh, blasphemy!” Some examples of his work follow:
Putting the power of the worldwide web to work to prepare your dear ones for the “irreversible crash.”
We are the first funeral home to act on the nation-state’s recent deregulation of mortician services. Not the best funeral provider in the land, but the closest thing to a backyard burial in terms of costs. An additional $7.50 off a polyester burial sack if you mention this ad.
Jackie Peterson’s Fun Centres
You have seen what we have done for this community in the roller rink business for the past two and a half years plus. Now watch we can do as we turn our prodigious attentions–and our large facility–to another vital service.
Sudden Exit Morticians
Specializing in funerals for persons and animals who die with little advance notice.
Suddenly Embalmed, a Division of Sudden Exit Morticians
We believe we are the first to look at funerals from the standpoint of the deceased. For example, what would it feel like to have cold formaldehyde, methanol, and other solvents coursing through one’s veins? We don’t want to know, so we warm all our fluids.
When you are here, but your loved one died at least 3,500 miles away. You can’t afford to get there for a decent burial, but we can–and we’ll send pictures.
Journal entry, 9 Messidor 223: Justice Minotaur breakfasted this a.m. with a web-footed registrix named Trinces L. Buttercouple, who mentioned her ex-husband was recently diagnosed with a neoplasm. Minotaur later reported to Cornwall he was not surprised at the news, as Mr. Buttercouple has slept in a functioning industrial chimney since 1968.
Journal entry, 20 Prairial 223: Minotaur and Cornwall attended a neighborhood barbecue today at the home of Lady Z. Victorim Jackknife. Jackknife’s high school numismatics instructor was working the grill and asked Minotaur how he liked his hamburger cooked. Minotaur saith: “Have you seen one of these reality shows such as on TLC, where there are two young people, male and female, who have made and kept an ill-advised vow to never kiss anyone until after they are married as husband and wife? And then two of these kissing virgins fall in love with each other, and we ultimately see them marry and then kiss for the first time ever, and the kiss is the most awkward act imaginable, like two blind ducks trying to probe one another’s faces with their moistened bills. I would like the flame of the grill to kiss my hamburger patty in such a manner as this.”
Journal entry, 13 Prairial 223: Yesterday Minotaur said he believed he was afflicted with gout, though he could not say what symptoms he had or what the symptoms of the disease are. “All the great ones have been felled by gout,” he declared, “and therefore it is not improbable that this monster lies now in my bed!” He determined to collect his urine for twenty-four hours and then have it deposited for analysis at Intermountain Medical Center in what he calls “the city of Utah.” This photograph was taken early this morning in the fridge in the common area break room at chambers, shortly before Minotaur declared the sample to be “complete” and “the most perfect sample that could be imagined”:
It is not clear why this fridge has two cans of whipped cream in it. Otherwise, everything looks normal.
Cornwall, Minotaur, and the completed sample set forth on the journey from New Salem to the Intermountain Medical Center. They traveled by motorcycle with sidecar. Somewhere on the road called U.S. Route 6 near the hamlet of Price, Utah, United States of America, Minotaur cried out to Cornwall over the noise of the engine and the wind:
“I actually wrote the slogan for Intermountain Healthcare. Originally it was to be ‘The science of medicine, the spirit of caring, the miracle of healing, and the hoping not to die.’ Then they got some lawyers involved and lopped off the last part, leaving us with something Nature cannot smile upon, like a furless dog.”
A few minutes later, as the motorcycle continued to speed toward its destination, Minotaur was trying to take a selfie with the sample jug pressed next to his face and accidentally dropped the jug onto the highway. It appeared to roll off the side of the road into the barrow pit. Cornwall and Minotaur turned around and searched for the jug for several hours in vain. Eventually Minotaur commanded Cornwall to take him back to New Salem. “The only explanation is that some rural wizard needed it for a powerful brew,” Minotaur rationalized.