The Accidental Further Adventures of the Hundred-Year-Old Man

Sweden, Germany

The rainbow coffin joined a Harley Davidson coffin, a Ferrari coffin, a golf-is-the-best-thing-ever coffin, a John Lennon/Imagine coffin, a white-doves-in-flight-on-a-pale-blue-background coffin, a dancing-fairies-in-a-meadow coffin, and a sunset-at-sea coffin.

Sabine was quick on the draw and found a used hearse for sale. Very quick. At the conclusion of the sale she realized that the eight coffins they were planning to bring to Stuttgart wouldn’t fit into it. It would take at most two, preferably just one. Julius offered comfort by pointing out that it would be useful for years to come, when it was time to deliver completed orders. Then he sent her to rent a small truck at the nearest service station. Before it was time to take off on their trip, she managed, on Julius’s advice, to paint a VfB Stuttgart coffin in red, white and a little yellow, with the words ‘Love since 1983’ in German, thanks to Google Translate.

‘VfB Stuttgart? What’s that?’ Allan asked.

‘The local football team,’ said Julius. ‘Might work.’

Sabine locked up and put a sign on the door: ‘Closed. You all shop somewhere else anyway.’ Then they aimed southwards, all three of them, with nine coffins in tow.

It took two days, with overnights in Copenhagen and Hanover. Pleasant dinners for three in both cities. As pleasant as they could be, at least, with Allan stubbornly reporting the latest news all the time, as if Sabine and Julius weren’t already aware of the state of the world. Allan’s latest charming story was about a former winner of the Nobel Peace Prize who might currently be pursuing genocide instead of peace.

After dinner in Hanover, Allan went to bed. Julius promised to join him soon, but this was a promise he wouldn’t keep. Instead he slept in Sabine’s room; it turned out this was something they had both been considering for some time.

‘Well, then,’ said Allan, when the trio gathered for breakfast the next day. ‘The Minister for Foreign Affairs is no longer good enough.’

‘Idiot,’ said Julius.

He and Sabine had spent time together every day and night since they’d first met a few months ago. Of course, Allan was always there in one corner, but he seldom left his sofa and in no way did he pose a threat to the love between the much-younger Julius and the even-younger-than-that Sabine.

It would be an exaggeration to say they just clicked. After all, their love affair had begun when Julius tried to rob his future intended of a box of bandages. But from that point on, their relationship grew steadily. And the evening in Hanover turned into a night neither regretted the next morning.

Julius felt that Sabine made him a better person. She didn’t just take, she gave too. He felt… proud of her.

‘Better late than never,’ said Sabine, apropos of the fact that she’d fallen in love shortly before her sixtieth birthday.

‘Much better late than never,’ said Julius, raising a glass of breakfast milk in a toast.

‘Okay, okay,’ said Allan. ‘Do you know what Trump did overnight?’