Leo's service.

Alright, so like I said, I finally had the chance to mourn the dude. I ain't need to talk about it; you ain't interested. Long and short of it is that I finally got a proper eulogy together, and I gave it on Sunday, down there on the #1 fairway, with all Leo's dudes in attendance, plus some guys from the handicap trials, and his mom, Dolores (Doris? Sorry).

Here is the text of my eulogy. It was hard. Man, it is a stone fuck to put a cadaver into the future with your words. I didn't like any part of it.

LEO FONTANETTE
A EULOGY BY RAY SMUCKLES

- - -

Leo's family came from Italy, in 1971. He was one. Their name was Fontanettini then, on the papers. Yes, his family was Italian. One imagines large dinners and the huge faces of friends, of the old country. Garlic bread. Fresh salami from the butcher. Grandma sneaks you another piece while she is cooking her famous Salami e Bruschetta.

Leo was a lot of fun, and he knew how much he wanted to eat, always. I mean, I ain't gonna count calories, but the dude played it bad sometimes. Damn.

Okay, I want to say some fun times I had with Leo. Fun times we had. There was that time in Vegas, with the modified automatic rifles at the outdoor shooting range. For a dude who swore by American cars, I have never seen a man blow so many holes in his rented PT Cruiser. I mean, he actually got inside and shot the interior of the car, then popped the hood and shot the engine bay at least fifty times. We weren't even supposed to take the rifles off the range, but as he walked outta the stalls he just threw his wallet on the ground and said, "Charge me. Like I give a shit." That was classic Leo. The dude was sure about things. I didn't edit that.

In Leo's memory we have a message: love life while we have it. Do what you want. I wish every child across this land had Leo's bold approach; maybe then we would already be done in Iraq.

But enough of that. Temper your approach to life with a sensibility about calories. Calories are the reason that my friend Leo isn't with us today. Damn you, Leo. Damn you for makin' me wait 'til I get to see you again.

Thank you, everyone.

- - -