“We’re in a moving ride, surrounded by the most annoying tune known to man, sung by a bunch of talking dolls, carrying a woman’s ashes around in a Buzz Lightyear soda bottle. I’m pretty sure we passed dignity at least two harebrained schemes ago!”

Again, I could swear Cal was snickering beside me, but he quickly covered it with a cough as I whipped my “don’t start with me, pal” gaze his way.

“Alright, alright, let’s just do this,” Aunt Sue said. “We’re almost to Africa.”

Aunt Sue leaned over the edge of the boat, slowly tipping the contents of her bottle into the water. Grainy white ashes mingled with the chlorinated water, swirling under the boat.

“The Lord is my Shepherd,” Aunt Millie began to recite in a solemn tone. “I shall not want. He maketh me lie down in green pastures.”

I bowed my head, at a loss for what else to do. Cal followed suit beside me. Though, that snicker kicked up again when Millie recited, “He leadeth me beside the still waters.”

I guess in our case, flowing waters and tourist boats. But I kept my trap shut, my head bowed, trying my best to think dignified thoughts as Aunt Millie’s parting words mingled with the strains of “It’s a small world after all!”

Finally she closed with, “I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever. Amen.”

“Amen,” we all repeated. Then I raised my head.

Just as the ride came to a screeching halt.

Oh. Shit.

We’d been caught.

I wildly whipped my head around, my gaze pinging from Aunt Sue’s empty Buzz Lightyear bottle to the singing dolls. I squinted through the darkness, trying to make out if any had glowing red eyes like the security skeleton.

Aunt Sue shoved the bottle back in her bag, clutching the tote closed. Millie sat up straight, clasping her hand in her lap. Cal tensed next to me, instinctively reaching for his missing gun.

We sat like that for a full thirty seconds, my heart hammering in my chest so hard I felt each bruising beat. I held my breath. What was the penalty for unlawful disposing of human remains in a theme park? A slap on the wrist? A fine? Surely not jail time, right?

Just when the patrons of the boats in front and behind us were starting to fidget in their seats, a voice came over the loudspeaker.

“We’re sorry, folks, but there seems to have been a slight mechanical malfunction. We’re going to have cast members escort you from your boats and to the nearest exit one at a time. Please remain seated until a cast member can assist you.”

I let out a sigh of relief. Mechanical malfunction. Thank the gods. We hadn’t been made. We’d just broken the ride.