On the week of October 8, 2007, Les Moore journeyed to New York’s Central Park to spread the ashes of his recently deceased wife, Lisa. Naturally hijinks ensue.
You might think this is yet another extension of Les’ miserable luck, but frankly, this is my number one fear when traveling to large and medium-sized cities. Heck, even when I journey to a rather pleasant city like Indianapolis, I’m patting my jacket every fifteen minutes to make sure that a crafty thief hasn’t lifted my wallet. Pro tip: it’s much worse in Europe. Especially Spain.
This however… is inexcusable. Let me tell you, if my fiancee passed away, I would not be so hasty to give away the lucky coin she once bequeathed me, no matter how heartwarming I might feel about fulfilling her wishes. What could Les have done?
- Dialed “0” to get the operator so he could call collect without first inserting the coin. At least, that’s what I do when I call collect from a pay phone.
- If he DID have to call from a pay phone, how hard can it be to scrounge around for a quarter somewhere?
- Most fine establishments would be OK with you using a phone if you tell them your sob story. Gas stations, convenience stores… heck, a police station where you report your pickpocket incident? I mean, I once had a boss who got robbed while in Madrid. Passport, currency, everything. Yet she still found a way to get back to US soil. Does Les really have it harder?
And now we get to the heartwarming conclusion. Sure, Les could’ve picked a better place to wait for Funky than in the middle of the park with the hard downpour — the mall or a bus station, perhaps. What has he got to lose? He doesn’t have any money! But it is a grand show of friendship, and Funky even get a rare, non-smirky punchline at the end. There’s real closure here, as if the cancer storyline was finally over and done with.
And if you’re still in a Funky mood: the Comics I Don’t Understand Page has quite a lot of Funky related goodness. Check it out!