Granddad is adamant; he wants to be frozen. In nightmares, worms burrow into him. So, we’re inspecting freezers in Curry’s; cryonic preservation isn’t covered by his life insurance.
‘That’s too small,’ Grandma says, peering into one icebox. ‘We’ll need a double.’
Once Granddad had made his mind up, Grandma decided she might as well join him.
‘It doesn’t look very comfortable,’ he remarks.
‘If we take the shelves out it’ll be fine,’ she says.
Now it’s cosy, the interior swathed with pillows and blankets.
‘See you in a hundred years,’ Granddad chuckles, as he climbs in and closes the lid.