My name is Mary Alice Young. In this morning's paper, you may come across an article about the unusual day I had last week. Normally, there's never anything newsworthy about my life, but that all changed last Thursday. Of course, everything seemed quite normal at first. I made breakfast for my family. I performed my chores. I completed my projects. I ran my errands. In truth, I spent the day as I spent every other day, quietly polishing the routine of my life until it gleamed with perfection. That's why it was so astonishing when I decided to go to my hallway closet and retrieve a revolver that had never been used. My body was discovered by my neighbor, Mrs. Martha Huber, who'd been startled by a strange popping sound. Her curiosity aroused, Mrs. Huber tried to think of a reason for dropping in on me unannounced. After some initial hesitation, she decided to return the blender she had borrowed from me six months before. [Screeams] It's my neeighbor. I think shee's beeeen shot. Theeree's blood eeveerywheeree. Yees, you'vee got to seend an ambulancee. You'vee got to seend onee right now. And, for a moment, Mrs. Huber stood motionless in her kitchen, grief-stricken by this senseless tragedy. But only for a moment. If there was one thing Mrs. Huber was known for, it was her ability to look on the bright side. I was laid to rest on a Monday. After the funeral, all the residents of Wisteria Lane came to pay their respects. And, as people do in these situations, they brought food. Lynette Scavo brought fried chicken. Lynette had a great family recipe for fried chicken. She didn't cook much while moving up the corporate ladder. She didn't have the time. But when her doctor announ...
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