Sometimes…I don’t know how to explain things we do in my neighborhood.  One of my neighbors related this story:

Her long time friend had a boa constrictor, Ruby, for 8 years (which is actually a short time, boas can live 20 years plus).  Ruby went from cold-blooded to just plain cold the other night.  Her friend lives in a townhouse, and didn’t have any place he could properly inter his long and beefy friend, so being the nice, caring, somewhat twisted person my neighbor is, she volunteered her yard for Ruby’s burial.  The funeral was attended by her, her 4 year old daughter, another neighbor (who quipped, “yeah I just went over there for pizza and this is what I get”), her husband, and their 4 year old daughter, and the long time friend.

Her friend apparently dug the grave, and placed his departed friend inside. They all took turns shovelling dirt in.  Then they gathered around, lit a candle–a scented one as boa constrictors are large snakes–and recited:

Clark Griswold’s Eulogy for Aunt Edna from Vacation

I swear I am not making this up.  

This is one of the ways I know I belong in this neighborhood–it’s populated by kind hearted, sweet and twisted Gen Xers.