Jeb, Judd, and Jonah had never seen so many beautiful people in one place. Droves of celebrities, holoscreen idols and career politicians gathered by the Andromedus Bay View to watch the send-off of the golden casket. They wore black suits of a material that seemed to suck light into them and dresses that would have been modest if they weren’t so form-fitting.

 

As the final attendees were scanned through the hangar’s archway, Jonah stepped forward and extended the ignition remote to the family. The governor smiled and turned it away, “Please, you do the honors.”

 

Jonah hesitated. The remote hummed in his palm as the capsule’s launch thrusters spooled into standby.

 

He pressed the button.

 

And that’s when he blew up the governor’s dead mother.

 

* * *

 

“You two are the biggest nitwits I’ve ever hired,” Jonah hissed at the boys standing at mock attention. Jonah leaned in, nose nearly touching theirs. “I don’t know how your little prank set it off like that, but you better be glad the governor is taking it well. Strangely well.” His intense stare finally wavered as he straightened out his dusty suit.

 

Jeb cleared his throat far too loudly, “Sir, we did tell you it would be a big hit, didn’t we?”

 

“Yea, we did tell you! You just don’t have sight like us!” Judd said.

 

“Vision, Judd,” Jeb corrected. “He don’t have vision.”

 

Fire roared in the older man’s eyes, but his fury was interrupted as the door slid open.

 

Governor Vernon sauntered into the room. "Gentlemen! You may just be the most brilliant minds in your industry.”

 

“Sir, our sincerest apologies. I have no idea what—”

 

“No, no! Don’t apologize. I wanted Mother to go out with a bang. She… deserved it. Star burials are becoming terribly cliché. A slow ascent, a solemn burn, everyone pretending they feel something. But that?” He smiled. “No one will forget that. I’m assuming there was an issue with the rocket fuel, yes?”

 

“Actually, Judd left a—” Jeb started.

 

“Precisely, sir,” Jonah cut in.

 

“Very good. Let’s stick to that if anyone asks, shall we? Come now. The guests await.”

 

* * *

 

Five hours earlier.

 

“She looks marvelous, Jonah. Well done, my good man,” Governor Vernon said, slapping Jonah’s back. “This is going to be a fine celebration indeed. Now, if you don’t mind, may I have a moment alone with her?”

 

“Oh yes, of course sir. Take all the time you need,” Jonah said. He sealed the chamber door and hurried down the corridor.

 

“Jeb! Judd!” Jonah shout-whispered.

 

“Right here!” the boys said in unison from around the corner.

 

Jonah turned into the room and heard a faint sizzling. Then... CRACK.

 

“ARG — JEB! JUDD! What in the WORLD are you doing lighting plasma poppers in a mortuary?!”

 

“Sorry, Boss,” Jeb grinned. “We were just trying to wake the dead.”

 

“Boss,” Judd interrupted, “Instead of shootin’ dead people into stars, wouldn’t a fireworks show be more fun? Everyone loves fireworks, ya know?”

 

“As I’ve said before: we do not blow up people’s loved ones,” Jonah said through gritted teeth.

 

Jeb jumped in, “But what if we just tried it once and asked what people thought afterwards?”

 

“How about I blow you up and ask you afterwards?”

 

“My good man!” the governor shouted from down the hallway, “Thank you again. We’ll see you shortly!”

 

“Yes, of course, sir!” Jonah said, rushing to the front to say goodbye, but he was already gone.

 

* * *

 

Moments later, Jeb and Judd fired up the long black cruiser, its grav-plates whining softly, as Jonah came out pushing the casket.

 

“He looks mad,” Jeb whispered.

 

“Do you think he found the other plasma popper?”

 

“Stop gawking and open the hatch. Now!” Jonah yelled.

 

They complied and loaded the capsule.

 

“Should we check to make sure they're not still in there?” Judd asked.

 

“Let’s go, boys!”

 

They shrugged and jumped in the back.

 

* * *

 

At the funeral reception, a crowd formed around the three underdressed morticians.

 

“So how would one sign up for this service?” a senator asked.

 

Jeb ribbed Jonah, prompting a not-so-subtle toe stomping. Jeb stifled a pained shout in response.

 

“Well, it’s still in the works. You see—” Jonah started.

 

“Would lasers work? Or what about a micro-blackhole implosion?” the senator interrupted.

 

“Oh, George, you are such a brute,” a stateswoman remarked. “The governor may have enjoyed this little stunt, but most are not so flamboyant.”

 

“Prudish as always, Margot,” the man replied, draining his glass.

 

Clinking of glass came over the banquet hall speakers, and all eyes turned toward the podium. “My esteemed guests, thank you for coming to honor my mother and to witness her final goodbye. She was a spitfire of a woman throughout her life, and now so in death. I have to extend my thanks to the wonderful talents of Mr. Jonah Tillman and his staff. A perfect exclamation point to end her story, even if unintentional! Now, please raise a glass in celebration of Mother and her undying dream of burning brighter than the stars.”

 

Later, the crowd dispersed, and the morticians made for the exit.

 

Judd stopped short of the door. “Uh....” he said and pulled out a string of plasma poppers from his coat.

 

“Judd!” Jonah snapped. “Put those away!”

 

Jeb’s eyes widened. “I thought you left those in the casket!”

 

“I thought I did.”

 

“Are you sure one didn’t fall in by accident?” Jonah asked.

 

“Other than the first one we left for ya, they’re all here,” Judd stated in disbelief.

 

“So then how…” Jonah trailed off.

 

They all looked at one another.

 

Then — slowly — up at Governor Vernon.

 

He raised his glass.

 

And winked.