Tsk, tsk, tsk. It’s as if the whole dirty Spenser Mining Inc. scheme is cursed, now isn’t it?

Constricted rage brings a charming coyote howl tone to Sarah Spenser’s voice when she calls me. “What are you people trying to pull? We have every right to extract gas from that land.”

I feign a little wisdom-tinged obliviousness. “Sarah, dear, surely you must know by now that you can’t force these kinds of things. If the Universe isn’t co-operating with you, well maybe it isn’t meant to be. Maybe you should find something else to extract. Your head from your arse, perhaps.”

“Have your fun,” she snipes, “but when you’re done throwing your little tantrum, this project will move forward. It’s only a matter of time.” She pauses. Inhales sharply, begins again with a fresh menace lacing her voice, “And once we find what we’re looking for, don’t be surprised when that otherwise worthless scrap of land you think you own is appropriated and turned over to us for further development. For the good of the people, you see.”

“With all due respect, Saint Sarah, go fuck yourself.” I don’t even bother to make the loud angry click sound when I hang up on her. I don’t have time for that one and her threats and tactics. I’ve got threats and tactics of my own to plan.

I stare at my reflection in the trailer door glass. Put an edge of genuine into my best Viva Rica smile. Smooth the gaudy green blouse I had to borrow from Peggy over and around my growing girth. Play with my hair, which is coming back inexplicably curly and glinting with silver. The hair is finally long enough to make people forget that there are tumours in my brain, and the belly is finally big enough to make people call me “radiant” and touch me without permission. I refrain from biting them or cursing at them when they do. That wouldn’t be good for sales.

Hello. My name is Crow Fortune. Imagine spending your eternity as a vibrant piece of a precious eco-system, with a glorious tree on a peaceful property overlooking the Great Bras d’Or. With Crann Na Beatha, your final resting place will be clean, green, and serene, as part of our Sacred Memory Forest.

Yes. Clean, green, serene. That’s good. People like words that rhyme.

Or how about this:

Good day. I’m Crow Fortune. Are you uncomfortable with high-pressure sales tactics from traditional burial providers? Do you believe that we can be conscious consumers who value people over profits, even in death? Would you or your loved ones like to know more about Crann Na Beatha, an innovative eco-cemetery that uses state-of-the-art tree-growing burial pods, hand-crafted by a Swedish entrepreneur and imported by local Buddhists?

Swedish, like Ikea! And Buddhist, like the Dalai Lama!

Might as well cut to the chase.

Look. I’m Crow. Scruffy Effie’s daughter. Effie’s dead, Smart Alec’s alive, and the Spensers are gearing up to poison the bejezus out of our land. We’re trying to stop them by turning it into a tree-hugger cemetery before that pack of greedy bastards gets their fracking act together. Know any hippies with one foot in the grave and a few grand to spare?