First Page

The Man Who Died Laughing

My brother Harold's a jerk. Don't get me wrong, I love him. But if we weren't related, I doubt I'd ever talk to him. That's what makes this so difficult. See, I just got a call from my mom this morning. Harold's dead.

I remember when we were little, probably 8 or 9. He was a year younger than me, but he always acted older. We were sitting around the house, bored. He picked up the phone, dialed a number, and hung up. I asked who it was and he just laughed. A few minutes later, the doorbell rang. Two cops stood at the doorstep, scared me to death. They said a 9-1-1 call was made. Harold was nowhere to be found. I realized I was a target of another one of his pranks. I don't remember laughing.

Of course I'm going to the funeral. I just don't know what I'm going to say.