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The presidium views exequies as fine instances for the final exit interviews of their subordinates. Only through death are individuals finally free of the cultural mores and hindrances that plague and hold them in check throughout their lives.

Lilly Liverroot, the deceased, suffered no such apprehensions during her living years. So, even though the exequie was supposed to start promptly at eleven, she had been continuing the diarrhoea of the blab blab since the time her oomph had expired.

Presidium, as a rule, would never dream of attending something so deathly boring, nor, for the sake of company moral, would they deem it a good idea to send a regular employee. Henceforth stoppgappers placed themselves scattered about in pews; pens and papers in their hands.

Marlon, for his part, took casual notes, nose in notebook, as Lilly Liverroot moved through the many grievances that her oomph had bestowed upon her. Taking a mindful moment to establish eye contact, out of polite habit, with the speaker- though in this case the speaker was in a box- Marlon’s eyes traipse across a lovely creature loping down the isle to a pew. She picks a simple pen and pad from her pack and proceeds to place notes within. Her eyes are bespectacled upon a tiny nose, pulled back further by a tight bun. When she feels the weight of Marlon’s gaze she looks up.

Marlon dives back into his notes making quick observational insights which he hopes presidium will think is both apropos as well as relevant.

Peter “Pete” pRatchetpeels sit-a-plops next to Marlon further breaking Marlon away from his thoughts.

-I wouldn’t write that if I were you, my friend. Those of us from upper presidium don’t really want to know all that there is to know. In fact we know that we already know more than should be known by members of our knowledge. If you want to move ahead you will forget all this nonsense.

-In fact, jot down something about how the lovely Lilly Liverroot wanted a larger office, more pay, but still loved all of those of hers in upper presidium. That she wanted for her fellow employees to be grateful of the opportunities provided by presidium, and leave it at that.

-Of course all of that will needed to be expanded to at least thirty pages so that it looks like you’ve done your job. This will, in turn, be turned over to another stoppgapper who will make it more succinct, a single page, and it will, in turn, soon be lining the kipple bin of your immediate presider.

Marlon mentions a mumble of momentary guilt but consents to the knowledge of Peter “Pete” pRattchetpells. Then the twain abscond as Lilly Liverroot elicits another diatribe on how she never really loved her husband anyway.