A Memory: Christie

Ah, the memories! My cousins were some of my favorite playmates! Christie is a couple years older than me, and her sister Catherine is my age. My sister and I loved visiting them in Calgary.
One of our favorite games was "Town." We set up a little town in their unfinished basement and we each had a role; post office, banker, store, etc. Christie was the police officer. She was Officer Jones. I don't remember what her first name was. Jim, maybe. Only it wasn't Jim Jones, it was Gjim Kjones: the G was silent, like in "gnat," and the K was silent, like in "knife." That still makes me laugh all these years later.
One day we were playing outside and Christie had a container with some sort of blue fluid in it (we had no idea what it was, but now I realize it was antifreeze, maybe?) and she dropped it and the container cracked. Well she was sure this spelled certain doom for her if her dad found out, so we decided to bury the evidence. We probably got spoons from the kitchen (I know, Auntie Betty is horrified at this story, but remember the statute of limitations has passed. Besides, it wasn't as bad as our Fish Creek Adventure). While we were covering up the thing someone commented that it seemed like we were having a funeral. We looked at eachother; what a brilliant idea! What could be more fun than a funeral?!
We found a little plastic guy to be our newly deceased. My sister, Laura, was the grieving widow. We picked some flowers and found a nice rock for the tombstone, then stood around the gravesite and Christie offered kind words about how nice and round his head was, how well he wore his red shirt and blue pants, what a great toy he was, and how much he would be missed by us all. There was weeping and wailing, and great anguish of soul, and . . .
"This is getting boring."
"Let's go play Town!"
"I'm Officer Kjones! Kjones with a K!"

I'm sure we left the spoons outside.