Bobby Wong made the same face he made in second grade when the white kids made fun of his name.

Graveyards give me the creeps, he said.

Better than getting busted dumping this truck load of infected medical waste at the dog park like the other day, said Angel Rivera.

He pulled a toothpick from his mouth.

We wouldn’t be stuck here if you checked the funeral schedule.

I did check, Wong said.

Guess everything’s just off because of all the coronavirus bodies piling up, Rivera said. We’ll have to wait until the funeral service is over, he said.

Bobby Wong reached under the truck seat and pulled out a six pack of beer.

Speaking of Corona, I got the last case of cans they had in stock, he said.

What, no lime wedges? I wonder if my relatives drink this shit in Puerto Rico, Rivera said. Look how far everybody’s standing from each other at the graveside, he said.

You’d think the stiff had the plague, Wong said.

Actually, the corpse did have the plague as cemetery attendants lowered Betsy Marinara’s casket into the hole.

Veteran prison Capt. Harvey Jones stood at attention. He wore a white dress cap and full uniform complete with gold braid and epaulets. Saluting, he put his hand over his heart and raised his freshly shaved chin.

On the other side of the freshly dug hole, Betsy’s estranged husband, Ronald, stood with their three children. Ronald Jr., aged 11, Donald, 12 and Reginald, 13. All wore ill-fitting suits and smirks better suited for a comedy club than their mother’s burial. A telephone astrologer once told Betsy that first names ending in “ald” brought long life and good luck for the whole family. The fortune teller was wrong.

Betsy’s sister, Gina, her mother, Eleanor, and her brother-in-law, Victor, a.k.a. Vic, stood at the foot of the coffin. Dressed in a black dress, matching stockings and box hat with a veil, Eleanor leaned on a metal walker and fingered red glass rosary beads. Gina, dressed for happy hour at a nightclub, posed in a little black dress and shiny spike heels. Decked out in a double-breasted black and white pinstriped suit, white silk puff, black silk shirt, white tie and fake crocodile print leather tasseled loafers, Vic chewed gum like an extra in a Sopranos episode. He wondered what would happen to Betsy’s vintage T-Bird and daydreamed about getting his hands on that mean driving machine.

Life is changing, Gina thought.

She sobbed.

You can’t even be Italian, anymore.

Eleanor coughed.

A good eight feet away, Betsy’s latest beau, Big Bob, stood at the top of the cemetery plot.

Clancy sat obediently at his feet.

Dogs normally aren’t allowed to attend funerals but during these troubled times during which many rules got tossed, pets now basked in more affection than ever. Many people loved their dogs and cats more than their children, spouses and parents. People would rather die than turn their backs on their pets.

Nobody wore a mask.

On the ridge above a row of concrete crosses, William sighted in his weapon. Covered with brush and tree trimmings discarded by the church groundskeeper, William’s cover allowed him the security and comfort of a natural disguise.

No one saw the laser dot appear on Capt. Jones’ forehead.

No one saw the red dot move from Ronald to Junior to Donald to Reginald.

No one saw the spot show up on Big Bob’s nose.

Clancy, dumb as he was, spotted the movement and leaped, snapping and trying to catch the darting speck like he would bite at a fly. Ready to run wild like at the dog park, the poor mutt strained against his leash.

William consciously slowed his breathing.

A sniper is God who giveth and taketh away.

The priest began to speak.

We are gathered here in the midst of heartache and pestilence, he said.

William sighted in the laser dot between the priest’s black eyebrows and began squeezing the trigger.

Oh, shit, that goofy dog is running this way, Wong said.

Ignoring the men in the truck, Clancy made a beeline for the juicy garbage and rooted around in the pile of severely infected medical waste Wong and Rivera just dumped. Quickly turning and romping full-speed at the mourners, Clancy wore an N-95 respirator stuck to his nose. The blood-stained mask dripped, sopping wet with secretions.

Gina fainted.

Eleanor coughed.

Bad dog, Big Bob said.