Woman Found Deceased After Hours Without Cell Phone

Frustrated woman kneeling on floor searching through cluttered room with books and clothes scattered
Image generated via AI.

By Lila Hargreeves, Staff Writer — The Maple County Gazette

FAIRFAX, OKLA. — Authorities confirmed Tuesday that a local woman, Clarissa Bloom, 34, was found deceased in her home after what investigators are calling an “acute technological deprivation event,” following several days without her mobile phone.

Bloom, a longtime resident of Fairfax, was last seen on Friday morning purchasing a vanilla‑scented candle and three boxes of tissues from the Fairfax Craft Barn. Neighbors reported that she appeared “distracted” and “a little twitchy,” though no one suspected anything unusual.

According to Sheriff’s Office spokesperson Deputy Marla Jensen, Bloom’s phone reportedly disappeared under “mysterious circumstances” sometime last week. “We’re not ruling anything out,” Jensen said. “The device was later located under a throw pillow, but the circumstances surrounding its disappearance remain unclear.”

Neighbors told investigators they heard unusual noises coming from Bloom’s home over the weekend, including screams of anger and what sounded like items being tossed around. One said, “If I hadn’t known she was home, I would have thought that she was being robbed.”

Another neighbor, Evelyn Crutch, reported seeing Bloom through the window on Sunday, looking all around her house, even in her garden. “She kept saying, ‘Where in the world are you?’. When I asked her what she was looking for, she snipped at me, ‘My phone!’ She seemed emotional,” Crutch said. “I thought maybe she’d lost a pet. Turns out it was just her phone. When I didn’t see her Monday morning, I thought it was best to call the police and ask for a “Well Being Check!”

Bloom was found Monday afternoon lying on her living room rug, clutching a charging cable. Officials say there were no signs of foul play, forced entry, or malfunctioning appliances. Her phone was discovered moments later beneath a decorative throw pillow on the couch. The device was fully functional and displayed a single notification:

“Your screen time was down 100% this week! Great job!”

Investigators declined to comment on whether the notification was considered “taunting.”

Local residents expressed shock at the incident, with many calling for increased awareness of digital‑detachment risks. Pastor Reuben Mallory of Fairfax Chapel announced plans for a community seminar titled “Unplugging Without Dying: A Practical Guide.” “We must learn to live with our devices,” Mallory said, “but also without them, at least for the length of a church service. You know, I used to think that going without your phone wouldn’t kill you, but apparently, I was wrong. Who knew?”

The county coroner has not yet released an official cause of death, though early reports suggest a combination of stress, confusion, and what one investigator described as “a psychological free‑fall into the ‘Notification Void.’” Authorities emphasize that the public is not in danger. “This appears to be an isolated incident,” Deputy Jensen said. “But we do encourage residents to keep track of their phones, and of what’s behind their throw pillows.”

Where Did God Find You?

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Colossians 1:13–14 in The Message says something breathtaking in its simplicity:

“God rescued us from dead-end alleys and dark dungeons. He set us up in the kingdom of the Son he loves so much, the Son who got us out of the pit we were in, got rid of the sins we were doomed to keep repeating.”

Those two verses carry a question that every believer eventually has to face: Where did God find you? Not where you pretend He found you. Not the polished version. The real place. The real condition. The real mess. The real you.

Because God doesn’t rescue imaginary people from imaginary problems. He rescues you from your pit — the one you know too well. He’s The God Who Steps Into Dark Places. Colossians says God found us in dead‑end alleys and dark dungeons. That’s not poetic exaggeration; that’s spiritual reality. Some of us were found in the alley of anger. Some in the dungeon of addiction. Some in the pit of religious performance, exhausted from trying to be “good enough.” Some in the shadows of shame, hiding from what we hoped no one would ever see.

Scripture keeps reminding us that God specializes in stepping into places we thought were too dark for Him: Psalm 40:2 — “He lifted me out of the slimy pit, out of the mud and mire.” Isaiah 9:2 — “The people walking in darkness have seen a great light.” Luke 19:10 — “The Son of Man came to find and restore the lost.” God doesn’t wait for you to climb out. He climbs in.

You were rescued, not polished. One of the most dangerous lies Christians believe is that God saved us because we were “almost there.” Colossians destroys that idea. He didn’t rescue you from a detour. He rescued you from a dead end. He didn’t pull you out of a dimly lit hallway. He pulled you out of a dungeon. And He didn’t just clean you up — He transferred you. Paul says God “set us up in the kingdom of the Son He loves so much.” That’s relocation. That’s adoption. That’s identity. You didn’t just get forgiven — you got moved.

The Pit You Were In. The Message translation adds a phrase that hits hard: “The pit we were in… the sins we were doomed to keep repeating.” That’s the cycle every human knows: The habit you swore you’d break. The attitude you swore you’d fix. The sin you swore you’d never commit again. And yet — there it was. Again. But God didn’t just forgive the cycle. He broke it. Romans 6:6 says: “Our old way of life was nailed to the cross with Christ, a decisive end to that sin-miserable life.” Where did God find you? In the cycle. In the repetition. In the pit. And He didn’t shame you for it — He saved you from it.

Your Rescue Is Your Testimony. Your rescue story isn’t the part you hide. It’s the part God uses. Paul never hid where God found him, on a road, blinded by his own pride and violence. David never hid where God found him, in a pit of despair. The woman at the well never hid where God found her, in relational wreckage.

Your rescue is the evidence of His kingdom.
Your pit is the platform for His grace.
Your dark alley is the backdrop for His light.

So… Where Did God Find You? Not where you wish He found you. Not where you pretend He found you. Where He actually found you. Because that’s the place He wants to transform, redeem, and use. If you’re still in a dark alley today, He’s still rescuing. If you feel stuck in a dungeon, He’s still lifting. If you feel trapped in a pit, He’s still breaking cycles. The God who found you then… is the God who finds you now.

Copyright © 2026 Mark Brady. All rights reserved.

Filmed in Front of a Live Studio Audience

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The writer of Hebrews drops a line that feels almost cinematic: “Therefore, since we are surrounded by so great a cloud of witnesses…” (Hebrews 12:1). It’s the kind of phrase that makes you look up, look around, and realize you’re not walking this life alone. You’re not unseen. You’re not unheard. Heaven is watching, cheering, and testifying. And in a way, your life really is filmed in front of a live studio audience. Not for entertainment. Not for embarrassment. But for eternal purpose.

The Heavenly Audience

The “great cloud of witnesses” isn’t a crowd of critics. It’s the faithful who have gone before. Abraham, Moses, Rahab, David, the prophets, the martyrs, the unnamed faithful whose stories never made it into a book but are written in heaven. They aren’t watching to judge. They’re watching because they testify that God is faithful.

Their lives say: God keeps His promises. God finishes what He starts. God strengthens the weak. God redeems the broken. They are witnesses of God’s faithfulness, not spectators of your failures.

God Sees Everything—But Not Like We Fear

Psalm 139 tells us plainly: “You have searched me and known me… You are acquainted with all my ways.”

God sees everything you do and hears every word you speak, but His gaze is not the cold stare of surveillance. It’s the warm attention of a Father who refuses to lose sight of His child. He sees the moments no one applauds. He hears the prayers no one else knows you prayed. He watches the battles you fight silently. He notices the obedience you offer quietly. His seeing is shepherding, not spying. His hearing is relationship, not record‑keeping.

Your Life Has Kingdom Weight

When you know heaven is watching, your choices suddenly feel less random. Your forgiveness matters. Your kindness matters. Your perseverance matters. Your worship matters. Your obedience matters. Not because you’re performing, but because you’re participating in a story God Himself is writing.

Hebrews 4:13 reminds us: “No creature is hidden from His sight.”

But that verse doesn’t end in fear. It ends in grace, because the very next lines point us to Jesus, our High Priest, who sympathizes with our weakness and invites us boldly to the throne of mercy.

Living Like the Cameras Are Rolling

If your life is filmed in front of a live studio audience, then every moment becomes an opportunity to reflect the One who called you. Not perfectly. Not flawlessly. But faithfully. The witnesses cheer because they know the God who carried them is the same God carrying you. The Father watches because He loves you too much to look away. And Jesus intercedes because He knows exactly what it feels like to walk this earth.

So, live today with holy confidence. Heaven is not silent. Heaven is not distant. Heaven is not indifferent. You are seen. You are heard. You are surrounded. And the Author of your story is still writing.

Copyright © 2026 Mark Brady. All rights reserved.

“Lucy”

Gravestone with the name Lucy engraved in a grassy cemetery setting
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There are stories of regret, disappointment, failure, and grief every day. Most of them don’t become song lyrics unless they have something to do with Taylor Swift, though. Dealing with those issues in life can be difficult or challenging to say the least. Despite the story, how it affects an individual can vary, and the length of time it affects them. Some people, at least without help of any kind, may never totally get over the event.

One young couple’s experience did turn into a song. “Lucy” by Skillet. “Lucy” is about grief, regret, and the emotional aftermath of an abortion. John Cooper, of the group Skillet, later confirmed that the song tells the story of a young couple who chose abortion, then found themselves overwhelmed with sorrow, guilt, and the longing for the child they never got to meet.

What the song means at its core

The heart of “Lucy” is regret—the kind that lingers, reshapes you, and forces you to confront what can’t be undone. Cooper originally kept the meaning vague so listeners could apply it to any kind of loss, but the emotional DNA of the song is unmistakably tied to a couple’s abortion, the grief that followed, their attempt to find closure, naming the unborn child “Lucy.” The song is written like a letter or a graveside confession, where the narrator imagines the life Lucy might have had and expresses the pain of knowing those moments will never exist.

Themes woven through the lyrics

  • Irreversible loss — The narrator kneels at Lucy’s grave, symbolizing the finality of the decision.
  • Guilt and self‑reproach — Lines like “I can’t live with myself today” reflect the emotional weight of the choice.
  • Longing for redemption — The hope of seeing Lucy “in another life” points to spiritual healing and the desire for forgiveness.
  • Imagined future — The song paints a picture of the life they could have had, intensifying the grief.

Why the song resonates with so many

Even though the specific story is about abortion, Cooper emphasized that the emotions are universal: regret, mourning, wishing you could go back and choose differently. Many listeners connect it to miscarriages, breakups, death, or any moment where life took a turn they wish they could undo.

I’ve had at least one of those kinds of moments of deep regret. And sure enough, I’m always thinking if I could go back and take a different path. But my story goes that I didn’t. Only with God’s help have I learned to accept the facts. He has healed me of the hurt to myself, and I pray for the hurt of others who were caught up in the wake of my actions. Life goes on. You can’t stay in the same month and year in which the event came to a head. Accept God’s forgiveness and forgive yourself. Learn from it, and go and sin no more, as Jesus might say.


I’ve attached the lyrics of the song “Lucy” by Skillet if you would like to read them.

I’m Not the Judge

Lawyer in courtroom putting on a traditional legal wig
A Christian removes a judge’s robe and wig. (Image generated via AI.)

A judge keeps order in the court. They ensure the law is followed and determine someone’s future by sentencing them or setting them free.

People often say “Christians are judging” not because a believer has actually issued a verdict, but because something deeper is happening inside the interaction emotionally, socially, or spiritually. The feeling of being judged is usually a collision between personal vulnerability and perceived moral pressure, and understanding that dynamic helps Christians respond with more grace and clarity.

Why People Feel Judged — Even When No One Said Anything

  • Moral sensitivity — When someone already feels insecure about a behavior or lifestyle, even gentle comments can feel like condemnation.
  • Past church wounds — Many have experienced real judgment or hypocrisy before, so they assume it’s happening again.
  • Cultural tension — Modern culture equates disagreement with rejection, so moral differences feel personal.
  • Internal conviction — Sometimes the Holy Spirit stirs the conscience, and people misinterpret that discomfort as human judgment.
  • Fear of rejection — People worry Christians won’t accept them if they don’t meet certain standards.

Often, the feeling of judgment is more about the person’s inner world than the Christian’s words.

Why Christian Beliefs Can Trigger This Reaction

Christianity makes truth claims about right, wrong, purpose, and identity. Even when spoken gently, truth claims can feel confrontational.

  • Moral clarity — Clear convictions can feel like criticism to someone who disagrees.
  • Exclusive claims — Jesus’ statement “I am the way” (John 14:6) can feel narrow in a culture that values personal autonomy.
  • Lifestyle contrast — When someone sees a Christian living differently, it can highlight their own choices.

Even silent faithfulness can feel like judgment to someone wrestling with guilt or uncertainty.

When Christians Actually Come Across as Judgmental

Let’s be honest — sometimes Christians unintentionally reinforce the stereotype.

  • Tone over truth — Harsh delivery overshadows a good message.
  • Selective morality — Condemning certain sins while ignoring others feels hypocritical.
  • Lack of empathy — People feel judged when they don’t feel understood.
  • Public shaming — Social media “truth-telling” often feels like an attack, not love.

Jesus never compromised truth, but people — especially sinners — felt safe with Him. That contrast speaks volumes.

The Deeper Spiritual Reality

Sometimes the tension isn’t interpersonal — it’s spiritual.

  • Light exposes darkness — John 3:19 says people avoid the light because it exposes what’s hidden.
  • Truth confronts the heart — When truth touches a sensitive area, people may blame the messenger.
  • Identity conflict — Christianity calls people to transformation, which can feel threatening.

The gospel is both comforting and disruptive — it heals, but it also reveals.

How Christians Can Respond With Grace

  • Lead with compassion — People open up when they feel safe.
  • Listen before speaking — Understanding someone’s story softens their defensiveness.
  • Speak truth gently — Ephesians 4:15 calls believers to “speak the truth in love.”
  • Live consistently — Integrity removes the sting of hypocrisy.
  • Let God convict — It’s the Holy Spirit’s job to change hearts, not ours.

When Christians embody Jesus’ character, people may still feel judged, but they’ll also feel loved. Jesus had an extraordinary way of meeting people who felt judged not by denying truth, not by lowering God’s standards, but by creating an atmosphere where mercy disarmed shame and truth invited transformation. When you look closely at His interactions, a pattern emerges: people who expected condemnation found compassion, and people who expected approval found honesty.

Below is a clear, structured look at how Jesus handled people who felt judged, with the key themes, scriptures, and emotional dynamics that shaped His approach.

1. Jesus Led with Dignity, Not Disgrace

People often felt judged because of their past, their reputation, or their failures. Jesus countered that instinct by restoring dignity first.

  • Woman at the well — She expected rejection because of her past. Jesus treated her as a person of worth before addressing her sin (John 4:7–26).
  • Zacchaeus — A despised tax collector, yet Jesus publicly honored him by choosing to stay at his house (Luke 19:1–10).

Takeaway: Jesus removed shame before He addressed sin.

2. Jesus Asked Questions Instead of Making Accusations

Questions open hearts; accusations close them. Jesus used questions to help people see themselves honestly without feeling attacked.

  • “Where are your accusers?” — To the woman caught in adultery, He didn’t start with a lecture but with a question that revealed grace (John 8:10).
  • “Do you want to be healed?” — He invited the man at Bethesda to express desire, not defend himself (John 5:6).

Takeaway: Jesus guided people toward truth rather than forcing them into defensiveness.

3. Jesus Protected People from Public Shame

When someone was vulnerable, Jesus shielded them from humiliation.

  • Woman caught in adultery — He physically placed Himself between her and the crowd, turning the spotlight away from her sin and onto the hypocrisy of her accusers (John 8:1–11).
  • Sinful woman who anointed His feet — Jesus defended her against Simon’s silent judgment (Luke 7:36–50).

Takeaway: Jesus confronted the judgers before confronting the sinner.

4. Jesus Reserved His Harshest Words for the Self‑Righteous

Interestingly, the only people who consistently felt judged by Jesus were the ones who thought they didn’t need grace.

  • Pharisees — They felt judged because Jesus exposed their pride, hypocrisy, and spiritual blindness (Matthew 23).
  • Religious elites — They valued image over repentance, so Jesus’ truth felt like an attack.

Takeaway: Jesus comforted the broken but confronted the proud.

5. Jesus Told the Truth — But Only After Love Was Clear

Jesus never excused sin, but He never weaponized truth either.

  • “Go and sin no more.” — He said this after rescuing the woman from execution (John 8:11).
  • “Salvation has come to this house.” — He affirmed Zacchaeus after Zacchaeus experienced acceptance (Luke 19:9).

Takeaway: Truth was the invitation to freedom, not the price of admission.

6. Jesus Saw People’s Potential, Not Just Their Past

People felt judged because they were used to being defined by their worst moments. Jesus saw what they could become.

  • Peter — A fisherman with failures, yet Jesus called him a rock (Matthew 16:18).
  • Matthew — A tax collector turned apostle.

Takeaway: Jesus spoke identity before He spoke correction.

7. Jesus Let the Holy Spirit Do the Convicting

Jesus didn’t pressure people into change. He trusted the Spirit to work in their hearts.

  • Conviction vs. condemnation — John 16:8 shows that conviction is the Spirit’s role, not ours.

Takeaway: Jesus created space for transformation rather than forcing it.

People didn’t feel judged by Jesus because He made them feel seen, safe, and invited — not cornered.

Copyright © 2026 Mark Brady. All rights reserved.

The Warnings

Concrete storm shelter with open metal door showing emergency supplies, tornado funnel cloud in stormy sky in background
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A tornado siren cuts through the air with a single message: “Pay attention. Take shelter. Your life depends on this.” The gospel of Jesus Christ carries a message just as urgent, yet people often respond to it very differently. Below is a devotional that draws that comparison with depth, scripture, and a call to the heart.


When the sirens sound and when the Savior calls. Takeaway: People respond to tornado sirens with urgency because they believe danger is real. The gospel announces an even greater reality, eternal rescue through Jesus, yet many respond with delay, distraction, or disbelief. Scripture shows why and how God invites us to respond differently.

The siren: a warning meant to save. When tornado sirens go off in Tulsa or anywhere across the Midwest, people don’t debate the meaning; they move. Some run to the shelter. Some grab their kids and head to the safest room. Some check the sky, the radar, the news. A few ignore it, but even they know the risk, and a real Okie goes outside to see the tornado and perhaps then posts it on social media. The siren is not meant to scare; it’s meant to save. Scripture echoes this principle:

“The prudent see danger and take refuge, but the simple keep going and pay the penalty.”
Proverbs 22:3

The warning is mercy. The call is protection. The response reveals belief. The gospel is a rescue call many treat casually. The gospel is God’s rescue siren. His announcement that danger is real, but salvation is available.

“For the wages of sin is death, but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord.”
Romans 6:23

Yet people respond in very different ways. Immediate repentance, like those who run to shelter the moment the siren sounds. Curiosity — like checking the radar but not moving yet. Delay — “I’ll deal with this later.” Disbelief — “I don’t think the storm is real.” Distraction — hearing the warning but being too busy to respond. Jesus described this same range of responses in the parable of the soils (Matthew 13:1–23). The seed is the same; the hearts differ.

Why People Respond to Tornado Sirens but Not the Gospel

People trust the sirens because they’ve seen storms destroy. They believe the threat is real. They know the shelter works. But with the gospel, the danger is invisible. The consequences feel distant. The world offers distractions. Pride whispers, “I’m fine on my own.” Scripture explains this spiritual blindness:

“The god of this world has blinded the minds of unbelievers…” 2 Corinthians 4:4

And yet, God keeps calling because He loves. He gives a person lots of opportunities to accept Him. Jesus doesn’t just warn, He welcomes. When a tornado siren sounds, it offers no comfort, no companionship, no hope, only warning. But Jesus offers warning and welcome.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28

He is not just the shelter; He is the Savior inside the shelter, arms open, ready to receive. The gospel is not a threat; it’s an invitation. The gospel is not God shouting, “Danger!” It is God whispering, “Come home.” Salvation is not fear-based; it is love-based. Repentance is not punishment; it is freedom. Faith is not blind; it is trusting the One who sees the storm clearly. Jesus said:

“I am the door; if anyone enters by me, he will be saved.” John 10:9

The siren warns you. The Savior welcomes you.


A Prayer: Lord, give us ears to hear Your call not with fear, but with faith. Help us respond to the gospel with the same urgency we show when earthly storms approach. Thank You for being our refuge, our shelter, and our Savior. Amen.


Copyright © 2026 Mark Brady. All rights reserved.

Why You Should Not Want to Go to Hell

Hell is hot, loud, miserable, eternal, and has zero customer service. Also, the Wi‑Fi is terrible.

Wooden sign with text 'HELL IS NO JOKE. FIERY WARNING. The wages of sin is death. Repent.' near a smoky, burning canyon
Image generated via AI.

1. The Climate Is… Suboptimal

Hell makes Death Valley in August look like a breezy Colorado morning. If you’ve ever stepped outside in July and said, “Wow, it feels like the devil’s armpit out here,” congratulations—you’ve already experienced the mild setting. Jesus described hell as a place of “weeping and gnashing of teeth” (Matthew 13:50). Translation: no shade, no breeze, no Sonic Happy Hour. If you’re thinking, “Well, I like warm weather,” let me lovingly challenge you with eternal consequences. Eternity is a long time to be medium‑rare.

2. The Neighbors Are… Not Ideal

You know that one driver who cuts you off, then slows down, then signals left while turning right? Imagine being stuck behind that guy forever. Hell is full of people who said, “I don’t need God, I’ll do things my own way.” Which is basically the spiritual equivalent of saying, “I don’t need Google Maps, I’ll just vibe it.” Proverbs 14:12 says, “There is a way that seems right to a man, but its end is the way of death.” In other words, your gut feeling is not always your friend.

3. The Noise Level Is Worse Than a Walmart on Black Friday

Jesus described hell as a place of “wailing.” (Matthew 13:42) Not singing. Not humming. Not even off‑key karaoke. Wailing. Forever. If you’ve ever lived in an apartment with upstairs neighbors who apparently train elephants at 2 AM, you already know the ambiance.

4. Zero Comforts, Zero Breaks, Zero Escape

Hell has:

  • No vacations
  • No naps
  • No iced coffee
  • No Chick‑fil‑A
  • No air conditioning
  • No hope

Revelation 14:11 says the torment “has no rest day or night.” Even your worst Monday has a bedtime. Hell doesn’t. It will be constant torment for eternity.

5. God Doesn’t Want You There Anyway

Hell was never designed for humans. It was “prepared for the devil and his angels” (Matthew 25:41). So, going to hell is basically crashing a party you weren’t invited to…

…except the party is on fire
…everyone is screaming
…and the host hates you.

God’s heart is clear: “He is not willing that any should perish” (2 Peter 3:9). He literally went to the cross to keep you out of hell.

6. Heaven Is a Much Better Option

Heaven has:

  • Joy
  • Peace
  • God’s presence
  • No tears
  • No pain
  • No death
  • No HOA fees

Revelation 21:4 says God will wipe away every tear. Hell, meanwhile, hands you a towel and says, “Good luck.” Hell will be missing one key element that heaven will be full of…LOVE.

Final Thought:

Hell is real, terrible, eternal, and absolutely avoidable.
Jesus didn’t just warn us about hell—He made a way out.
And He did it because He loves you more than you can imagine.


God’s rescue plan is not vague, complicated, or hidden. It’s shockingly direct, painfully costly, and unbelievably generous.
Here’s the clearest way to understand it — the way Scripture itself frames it.

The Problem:

The Bible describes the human condition as more than “mistakes” or “bad habits.” It’s a spiritual catastrophe — separation from God, corruption of the heart, and a destiny we cannot escape on our own.

  • Sin separates us — “Your sins have separated you from your God” (Isaiah 59:2).
  • We cannot fix ourselves — “No one is righteous… not even one” (Romans 3:10).
  • Judgment is real — not because God is cruel, but because sin destroys everything it touches.

This is the “cosmic disaster” — a spiritual death we cannot outrun.

The Rescue:

God’s plan is not advice, not self‑improvement, not religion. It is an intervention.

  • Jesus enters our world — fully God, fully man.
  • He takes our place — “He became sin for us” (2 Corinthians 5:21).
  • He absorbs the judgment — the wrath, the penalty, the separation.
  • He rises again — proving the rescue is complete.

God didn’t send a plan. He came as the plan.

The Offer:

This is where the gospel becomes almost offensive in its simplicity.

  • Grace — God does the saving.
  • Faith — you trust what He did.
  • New birth — God gives you a new heart, new identity, new destiny.

“It is by grace you have been saved, through faith… not by works.” (Ephesians 2:8–9)

You don’t climb to God. God comes down to you.

The Result:

The moment you accept Jesus Christ, the moment you ask Him into your life:

  • Your sins are forgiven
  • You are adopted
  • You are made new
  • You are sealed for eternity
  • You become a citizen of heaven

This is not behavior modification. It’s rescue, rebirth, and relocation.

The Response:

God’s plan is complete. The only unfinished part is your response.

  • Turn to Him
  • Trust Him
  • Follow Him

Not by trying harder. By surrendering.


Copyright © 2026 Mark Brady. All rights reserved.

The Great Rickenbacker Funeral Stakeout

Wooden casket with floral arrangement in a chapel filled with seated mourners dressed in black
Image generated via AI.

Alice Rickenbacker had many hobbies, collecting ceramic frogs, alphabetizing her cereal boxes, and overthinking literally every social interaction she’d ever had. But her true passion, the one that kept her up at night, was wondering what people really thought of her.

Not what they said to her face. Not the polite “Oh Alice, you’re so… unique.” She wanted the unfiltered, unvarnished, brutal truth. And so, naturally, she did what any completely reasonable, emotionally stable adult would do: she faked her own death.

Alice lay stiff as a breadstick inside a rented casket from Morty’s Budget Memorials, the only funeral home with a coupon program. She had a tiny airhole, a thermos of iced coffee, and a notebook titled “Operation: What Do They Really Think?”

Her plan was simple:

  1. Play dead.
  2. Listen.
  3. Rise dramatically if someone said something unforgivable.
  4. Profit (emotionally).

The service began.

Her best friend, Marla, sniffled loudly. “Oh, Alice… she always borrowed my clothes without asking, but she returned them… eventually.” Alice scribbled: Marla: mild resentment, but manageable.

Her coworker, Todd, stepped up next. “Alice was… well… she was definitely in the office.” Alice wrote: Todd: neutral, possibly a goldfish in human form.

Then came her neighbor, Mrs. Dingleberry, who always smelled faintly of cabbage and judgment. “Alice was a strange woman,” she declared. “She once yelled at my begonias for ‘looking smug.’” Alice wrote: Accurate.

Everything was going fine, better than expected, actually, until she heard the next comment. It came from her cousin, Brent, who had the emotional depth of a damp paper towel. He cleared his throat. “Well… at least now she can’t ruin Thanksgiving with her conspiracy theories about squirrels.” Alice exploded out of the casket like a jack-in-the-box powered by pure indignation.

“SQUIRRELS DO HAVE A SECRET SOCIETY, BRENT!”

The crowd screamed. Mrs. Dingleberry fainted into a floral arrangement. Todd dropped his phone and whispered, “I knew it.” Alice stood there, hair full of funeral lilies, pointing dramatically at Brent like a resurrected Phoenix of Petty. “You take that back! I have never ruined Thanksgiving. That was Aunt Patty and her ‘experimental gravy.’” Brent shrieked and dove behind a pew.

The Aftermath

Once everyone calmed down and once the funeral director stopped hyperventilating, Alice explained her plan. Surprisingly, most people forgave her. Marla hugged her. Todd asked if he still got bereavement leave. Mrs. Dingleberry demanded reimbursement for emotional damages. And Brent… well… Brent refused to make eye contact with her for the rest of eternity, which Alice considered a win.

Moral of the Story

If you want to know what people really think of you, you could try honest communication, emotional vulnerability, or healthy self-reflection. Or you could do what Alice did. But maybe… don’t.

A Royal Flush

Image generated via AI.

Shannon’s house was packed. Friends, family, coworkers, neighbors, and even a few people who weren’t entirely sure how they knew her but came anyway because they knew Shannon’s husband Evan.

The spread was impressive: mini quiches, BBQ bacon‑wrapped water chestnuts, tiny sandwiches cut into shapes that suggested Shannon had spent too much time on Pinterest, amongst other items. Everyone mingled, laughed, and tried to guess what the occasion was. But then Shannon clapped her hands and said, “Alright, everyone, follow me.”

And like obedient, slightly confused ducklings, they followed her down the hallway… into the master bedroom… and then into the master bathroom. A bathroom was large enough to host a small conference. A bathroom with a soaking tub, a double vanity, and most importantly, a toilet that suddenly felt like the main character.

People exchanged looks. Someone whispered, “Why are we in here?” Another whispered back, “Maybe it’s a home renovation reveal?” A third muttered, “If she asks us to help install tile, I’m leaving.” Finally, someone asked Shannon directly, “What’s going on?”

Shannon smiled with the serene confidence of a woman who had planned something deeply unhinged and was proud of it. She turned to the minister she had invited.

He cleared his throat, opened his little black book, and began solemnly, “We are gathered here today to celebrate the life of Shannon’s husband, Evan.” It was then that some realized they hadn’t seen him.

A collective gasp rippled through the bathroom. One guest raised a hand like they were in a classroom. “Um… why are we doing this in the bathroom?” Shannon clasped her hands, beaming with the enthusiasm of someone about to reveal a surprise she’d been dying to share. “Because,” she said, “after the minister is finished saying a few words, we will be flushing Evan’s ashes down the toilet.”

Silence.

Then chaos.

One quest choked on a mini quiche. Someone else whispered, “I knew Shannon was cheap, but this is extreme.” A third person asked, “Are we being punked?” And another said, “Oh, this is going on Facebook!” as they pulled out their phone.

The minister, consummate professional, continued his eulogy as if this were the most normal venue imaginable. Shannon nodded along, misty‑eyed, holding a decorative urn that looked suspiciously like it came from HomeGoods. When he finished, she lifted the lid, walked to the toilet with ceremonial reverence, and said, “Goodbye, Evan. You always said this was your throne, and when you sat here, you felt like royalty, and besides, you wanted a simple send‑off.” And with that, she poured.

A swirl.
A flush.
A gurgle of plumbing doing its best.

The guests stood frozen, unsure whether to clap, cry, or call a plumber. Shannon turned back to them, smiling brightly. “Finger foods are still available in the kitchen.”

Cheaper Than Therapy

Man aiming and firing handgun at a cracked computer screen in a home office
Image generated via AI.

There once was an author named Clive McGrimm,
Who smiled very politely… but harbored things within.
He’d nod when you spoke, he’d say, “Oh, how nice!”
Then go home and edit your fate in a trice.

Oh, Clive had a hobby, no, scratch that, a need.
To write little stories at lightning speed.
And in them were people, quite real, more or less,
But thinner on patience and thicker on mess.

You see, if you crossed him, cut in line at the store,
Or talked through a movie, or knocked on his door.
At 6 in the morning with leaf-blower cheer
Well… you’d find yourself fictionally vanishing, dear.

“Oh look,” Clive would murmur, adjusting his pen,
“Here’s Nigel, who double-parked twice last week when
I circled for ages. Now Nigel, my friend
You’ll trip on page three and meet quite a quick end.”

And type-ity clack went the keys in delight,
As Nigel fell from some suspiciously tall height.
Not graphic, not gory, Clive wasn’t a brute.
Just sudden and final, with dark comic loot.

There was Amber, who blasted her music at night,
Boom-booming the walls till his tea shook with fright.
Clive sighed as he wrote, “Amber, rave queen of doom.
You’ll anger a ghost in a haunted spare room.”

And poof in the tale, she was gone in a blink,
A cautionary note with a sarcastic wink.

“Oh, I feel much better,” he’d say with a grin,
As fictional justice restored calm within.
His anger dissolved into paragraphs neat,
With karmic conclusions, both tidy and sweet.

His editor asked, “Why so many abrupt ends?”
Clive chuckled, “Oh, purely symbolic, my friend.”
He never explained (thinking this is how it should be):
His stories were definitely cheaper than therapy.

So, if you meet Clive, be considerate and kind,
Use turn signals, chew softly, and wait your turn in line.
For though he seems gentle, well-mannered, and fulfilled…
You really don’t want to be written in and then killed.