Agnes and the Perpetual Post-Mortem

Agnes, administrative assistant at 'Eternal Rest & Discreet Disappearances, Inc.', sighed dramatically, though no one was around to appreciate her flair for the theatrical. Another Monday, another… *parcel*. Her clipboard listed the latest arrival: 'Mr. Reginald Piffle. Cause of demise: Acute overestimation of one's own tightrope walking prowess during a particularly blustery town fair.' Agnes tutted. 'Honestly, Reginald, a safety net is not just a suggestion.'

Her job wasn't to mourn, or even to dispose in the traditional sense. It was to *relocate* the permanently inconvenienced into contexts that were both plausible and, ideally, beneficial. She flipped through her binder, 'The Book of Befitting Beginnings (and Endings)'. Mr. Piffle was rather tall, slender, and surprisingly well-preserved despite the fall. 'Hmm,' she mused, tapping her pen against her chin. 'The new lamppost collection for the civic square? Perhaps a lovely, if somewhat rigid, addition to the 'Statues of Local Legends' exhibit?'

Last week, it was a particularly corpulent gourmand whose final journey involved being 'repurposed' as nutrient-rich soil for a prize-winning pumpkin patch. Before that, a notoriously gossipy socialite became the 'whispering wind chimes' at a secluded, avant-garde art installation. Agnes just sipped her lukewarm chamomile tea, meticulously updated her spreadsheet with Mr. Piffle's proposed new 'residence', and checked the weather. 'Looks like a good day for civic landscaping,' she murmured. 'Optimal for unnoticed integration. Perfect.'