Mother and the Urns.

My mother called the other day and asked me to take her shopping.
"Sure," I responded. "What do you need?"
"They have some urns on sale at London Drugs that I want to see."
"Ok, I'll pick you up at one."

At the drugstore we scoped out the urns; there were many different types and colors.

"What about this one?" I suggested.

"No, no," she said. "I need one with a lid."

"A lid?" I said, feeling puzzled. "What is this urn for?"

"My ashes," she answered in a distracted manner.

I stood there like (an urn?) stunned by what she had said.

"Why on earth are you buying an urn for your own ashes?"

"Well, I don't want anyone else to have to pay for it and I thought it would be cheaper here."

I gently explained to my mom she didn't need to buy an urn right now; I wold take care of it at the proper time.

After thinking the whole thing over, I told her I'm going to buy a large tupperware bowl, stick her in the cupboard and every month I'll burp her.