The lawyer’s office smelled like orange peels, and it made Todd’s mouth water. It was sick, wanting to eat at a will-reading. He was sure that he was some kind of freakishly horrible person to be thinking about eating now.

The palaple greed around him didn’t even take his appetite away. Damn, he wanted an orange! They wanted to feed on the carrion of Uncle Ralph’s life, and he wanted a goddamn orange. His mom gave him a nasty look, so he took off his headphones. He let the rest of the room sample his Perfect Circle CD for a few seconds before he hit stop on his MP3 player. The lawyer shuffled his papers and cleared his throat.

Silence crashed over the room; Todd was sure that a mental chant of “I want” caused it. The lawyer sipped from a glass of water and began. Todd closed his eyes and tried to stop thinking about oranges. The monotone droning of the lawyer’s voice lulled him nearly to sleep. His mind drifted, and he was standing in a grove of orange trees in sunny Florida. He laughed, in his mind, and spun around.

He jumped up and snatched an orange from its branch. Todd tore off the peel and took an enormous bite out of it. The taste was perfect, and the juice filled his mouth with happiness. Here was a good place; the kind of place where Uncle Ralph had to have gone.

At that thought, thunder boomed in the distance. Clouds were gathering in an all-too-familiar spiral pattern. Something squirmed wetly in Todd’s hand, and he reflexively dropped the rotting, worm-ridden orange.

The winds began to howl through the rows of orange trees. Unreasoning terror bubbled in Todd’s heart, sending him at a dead run away from the storn. The wind blew harder and harder, pulling down rotted orange after rotted orange. A shadow blanketed everything; the spinning and churning clouds thickened and drew together. The wind was whistling fast and hard in Todd’s ears as he fled, reminding him of the eerie, haunting sounds of the calliope. Lightning crashed, thunder hammered at his ears, and the rain began to fall. Sheets of it pounded him and turned the dirt to mud. Todd slipped on the peel of an orange and slid headfirst into the Florida mud.

The storm was after him. It wanted to consume him. Somehow he knew that it had consumed Uncle Ralph, and was coming for him, now. He tried to scramble back to his feet, but the mud sucked at him, drawing him down. He struggled, sinking more and more. The storm closed in, and the earth itself kept him prisoner, holding him until he was consumed. There was a sharp pain in his side, and he was suddenly falling.

He hit the floor of the lawyer’s office with a thud and a yelp. The smell of oranges had soured. Everyone was staring at him, and his mother was giving him a death-glare. “Honestly, Todd. The least you could do is stay awake.” He blushed purple and climbed back into his seat. The lawyer cleared his throat and continued.

“To my great-nephew Todd, I leave my house, and every posession in it.” Gasps and shocked curses were whispered from all around. “In the event that I pass on before Todd turns eighteen, it shall remain in trust to him. Arrangements for upkeep of the house and yard have already been made. It is my sincerest wish that Todd explore the house fully, and do with my belongings as his heart leads him. I also ask that his parents not stand in the way of this. Todd has my trust, and will not do wrong by it.”

It only took them three days to put uncle Ralph in the ground. He had had the last stroke in the morning. They had the viewing the next day, and today they’d put him in the ground. Just like that and everything was done… the man’s life, the man’s dreams, the man’s history, snuffed out, buried, and doled out to the hungry vultures. Seventy-two hours.

Todd put the black rose on the coffin. He backed away, and something inside him, something that he didn’t understand, screamed and clawed and tore out its hair. It couldn’t be over, something of it all had to live on, didn’t it?

Well, didn’t it?

The looks that everyone was giving each other said no, it damn well did not, and what will happen to me when they put me in the ground? Nobody was thinking of Uncle Ralph; they were thinking about being in that box themselves. Well, screw them. Todd knew that he was in a better place. Being here was for losers.

He stuffed his hands in his pockets and headed toward his dad’s Buick gas-guzzler. His mom looked at him and started crying again. Could she get more emotional about this? Not fucking likely. What right did she have, anyway. Uncle Ralph was Dad’s uncle. Todd’s great-uncle, if you cared. His Dad was choked up, but not like Mom. He was still in control. He wouldn’t flip out until he hit the scotch.

Todd sat in the back seat as his mom got in the front. He looked out the window as the car was started. The trees and overcast sky slid by, and Tim just couldn’t think. His head was filled with memories of Uncle Ralph. The smell of pipe smoke, the rustle of old paper, and the music that his beat-up ancient calliope made. Uncle Ralph used to play on that thing all the time. It could remind you of the circus, or give you nightmares, depending on how you played it. Uncle Ralph had known how to play it.

“Todd?” His Dad’s voice was cracked and creepy.

“Yeah, Dad?” He sounded tired, even to himself. His Mom started crying again, but at least she was quiet this time.

“Uncle Ralph left behind a will.” Oh, great. Here it comes. Family bullshit about who gets what. Feuds started by vultures. “He mentioned you in it. Your mother and I can accept things for you, but if you’re up to it, I think old Ralph would have wanted you there.”

That figured. Now he was a vulture. He would have things that others felt they deserved, when all he wanted was to have everything about this just go away. He looked at his dad, who was concentrating on the road for all he was worth. There was the Christmas-eve excitement about gifts, just poking itself into Todd’s brain, making all of this more confusing and painful.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll go.” Another day off from school. What the hell.