Saul stared at the headstone. B L T was all that they put, just those three, simple letters. He took the handkerchief from his breast coat pocket, wiped the tears from his eyes and gave his nose a long blow.
Why hadn’t they shown more respect? Why didn’t they sing the praises of the one that brought so many so much joy; so much gratification?
Had they asked him, Saul would have insisted the stone read:
Bacon, lettuce and tomato, with mayo and a touch of mustard, on toasted sourdough, served with a side of steak fries. How very well we, and our bathroom scales knew thee. Beloved comfort food.