Chapter One

My favorite color is purple.

Now, I know what you are thinking. You are thinking that you do not care about my favorite color, because you do not know me. You are thinking that I should tell you something worth your time.

Well, my favorite color is very relevant to the story, so pay attention.

I was born seven years ago, in a little town known as Number Five. I also know what you are thinking now. You are thinking that I am seven years old, and therefore cannot talk this way or think this way.

You are sadly mistaken, so pay attention.

"Honey, go get your shoes on; we're going to be late!" My mother yells quietly. Yes, that does sound like an oxymoron, but it is the only way I know to describe the way my mother yells. She yells with as much patience as someone who is trying to train a dog to play dead.

We are going to my grandmother's funeral. Of course, I didn't know her, so I don't really care. In fact, the only thing I know about my deceased grandmother is that she passed away while reading a novel in her bed. I also know that she will be buried with that novel. It was my suggestion of course, because I know that she'd want to finish the novel. Even in death, it is my belief that she will still be able to read.

Also, it must be boring lying in a coffin for the rest of eternity. The novel will keep her company.

Have you ever heard the saying, "Ignorance is bliss"? Well, some people wonder why more people aren't happy if that were the case. I don't have to wonder about it though, because I know the answer.

Will I tell you the answer, you ask? Of course I will, but that doesn't come into play for a while and I want to keep you thinking. So I will wait.

You also ask what it has to do with the story, and tell me with your unique brain power that I am once again telling you something irrelevant.

Well, it has everything to do with the story, so pay attention.

My favorite color is purple, and I am going to my grandmother's funeral.

Have you ever noticed that the word 'funeral' has the word 'fun' inside of it? Either it is some form of irony, or a powerful God is trying to tell us something. I believe that a powerful God is trying to tell us to have fun at a funeral, because death is only the beginning.

So, grabbing my mother's left hand, we head toward the funeral, and I am thinking about how to have fun at a funeral.

Let's go have fun.