vibaxixe's version from 2015-06-04 21:19


Ned, Albert is dead. Albert, I think I loved him best of all, and he went so fast. There we were, on a plane to Arizona when after we take off, Albert loses his mind, not recognizing me, not knowing where he is or that he's going home, and then, right there, on the plane, he becomes . . incontinent. He starts doing it in his pants and all over the seat; shit, piss, everything. I pulled down my suitcase and yanked out whatever clothes were in there and I start mopping him up as best I can, and all these people are staring at us and moving away in droves and . . I ram all these clothes back in the suitcase and I sit there holding his hand, saying, "Albert, please, no more, hold it in, man, I beg you, just for us, for Bruce and Albert." And when we got to Phoenix, and to the hospital where his mother had fixed up his room real nice, Albert was dead. But it gets worse. The hospital doctors refused to examine him to put a cause of death on the death certificate, and without a death certificate the undertakers wouldn't take him away. Finally, some orderly comes in and stuffs Albert in a heavy-duty Glad Bag and motions us with his finger to follow and he throws him out into the back alley with the garbage. His mother and I carried the bag to her car and we finally found an undertaker who cremated him for a thousand dollars, no questions asked.