When the gentleman in the green hat asked Mitchell if he could work as an usher for a local funeral home, he didn't know what he was getting himself into. Mitch would start on Monday.
Mitchell didn't have a black suit to wear so he went to a hole-in-the-wall tailor on 107th avenue hoping he could find a good price. He hadn't worked in eighteen weeks. He would finally be able to earn enough dough to take out Lori St. Sevard, the girl he lost his job for.
Lori was by most accounts an average girl. She was pretty enough and didn't say 'like' too too often. She lived in St. Albert and commute to West Ed where she worked as a life guard at the water park. She adored the show Home Makeover and liked restaurants where she could dip foccacia into balsamic vinegar and oil. Mitchell was in love.
Twelve weeks later, after building a bivouac on Lori's lawn, Mitch was arrested. He hadn't read his mail or he would have known that Lori had taken out a restraining order. "A restraining order is something women use to challenge a man's love" his lonely father told him when he graduated from high school. This said, 'the Law' wasn't going to snuff out his love.
Mitch had been a police officer, sworn in only weeks prior to having met Lori when investigating a case of gross indecency in the water park hot tub. He took her to Earl's and they shared an awkward kiss before she got out of the car. Mitch was in love.
The restraining order and the inappropriate use of his fire arm had lost Mitchell his dream job. Lori was an important way for him to occupy his thoughts. He felt that his feelings were too potent and something might be wrong with him. He was at times suicidal.
The suit cost seventy two dollars and eighteen cents. He paid with VISA and let the door close gently behind him.
He went to bed early after calling Lori from a payphone nearby his house. Now that number was blocked too.

The next morning was drab. "How fitting for a funeral." Mitchell remarked. He climbed in his New Yorker and crawled off to the funeral home. "So this is what Twenty One Years Old looks like." He crooned to his car. His car just smelled like french fries.
The funeral director was not impressed by Mitchell's suit. Mitchell didn't like the funeral director's attitude. "If I was still a cop.." he mumbled. The funeral director didn't like it when people mumbled. They were off to a bad start.
The family began to file in and Mitch was seating them with his best 'morose face' as indicated by the director. He was trying his best to smile with his mouth but mourn with his eyes. This stupid expression, in his opinion, made a sad circle with the lips and brow and he felt somewhat emasculated.
When everyone was seated, Mitchell hummed and hawed and wandered to the desk on the foyer with this morning's program. The service was in memory of Elaine St. Sevard.
A sudden burst of fiery grape shot alight on Mitchell's corneas. He was all of a sudden quite dizzy. In his engrossment he had not taken any account of who he was seating. Lori's face was veiled as well. He hadn't noticed her and she hadn't noticed him and her mother was DEAD.
There wasn't a doubt in his mind that this was Serendipity. He marched grimly to the alter where the preacher had already begun his modest and dutiful sermon. Tearing the microphone from the pulpit he began as if growling "Lori, I love you." The microphone was clipping. "Bad things should never happen to you. Your Mom should be alive!" His voice was quivering now. "How can you people just LET this woman die. Don't any of you know anything about LOVE?"
The faces flushed red and the knuckles went white.
"YOU LET HER DIE!?! Why didn't you do anything?"
He marched down the steps to the side of the casket. Elaine had died in a collision. Everyone hoped he wouldn't open it. Mitchell began rattling the coffin by the bars attached on the side for pallbearers. "WAKE UP, ELAINE. IT ISN'T YOUR TIME YET. WAKE UP, I TELL YOU! I COMMAND YOU ARISE BY THE POWER VESTED IN ME -- BY LOVE!!!"
He looked at Lori and smiled manically. "Everything is going to be OK now, honey."
She winced and glanced at God. Mitchell's smile loosened.
"Lori -- will you marry me?"
That's when the brother of the deceased apprehended Mitchell in a choke hold until he passed out.
The mental hospital where Mitch is incarcerated has a recording studio where Mitchell records as Mitchmatic. It passes the time.