How Do Families Arrange Services At Waid Funeral Home?

On the seventh day after my dad's passing, I head over to the funeral home to wrap up the aftermath of the funeral as well as pack up my dad's personal effects. That's when an employee stops me and demands that I cough up an additional 100 thousand dollars for the storage and preservation of my dad's corpse. I'm stunned, to say the least. Dad has already gotten cremated and buried a long time ago. His ashes are already deposited inside the graveyard, as we speak. So, how is his body getting stored and preserved throughout the week? I use facts and logic to argue with the employee. But he has the gall to threaten me with an impatient scowl on his face. "Stop yapping already! The system shows that your father's body is still inside the cold storage! It's been seven days, so you must pay 100 thousand dollars, no matter what! If you refuse to settle the payment, you can forget about taking your father's personal effects with you! "When the time comes, you have to cough up the additional charges as well! If not, I shall see you at court!" As I stare at the hostile employee, I can feel rage simmering in my blood. Still, I call every family member and relative I have to borrow 100 thousand dollars from them just so I can make the payment. With the receipt in hand, I walk into the police station right away. "Officer, my dad was cremated and buried seven days ago. But the funeral home decided to charge me 100 thousand dollars' worth of storage and preservation fees for no reason! I suspect that they didn't send my father off the proper way!" When the police show up at the funeral home, the same employee who threatened me looks alarmed. He quickly gets his manager, Mr. Lawson, to deal with the situation. Impatience is etched all over Mr. Lawson's face as he snaps at me, "Your father has already gone through the cremation process seven days ago. The procedure and all the receipts are intact. Don't you dare kick up a fuss irrationally now!" I let out a cold chuckle in return before showing Mr. Lawson the receipt. "I'm being irrational, you say? I've just paid for the storage fees of my father's corpse, and here's the receipt to prove the validity of the transaction! You must return my father to me today!" I thought the funeral home insisted on charging me earlier. Now, they'd better fulfill their side of the bargain by returning my dad's corpse to me without a single hair out of place!

Right after my father dies, I receive a call from the hospital, urging me to settle the hospital bills. "You're the next of kin for Carl Stone, Bed 23 of the Neurology Ward, correct? You still owe the hospital 246,000 dollars. Kindly settle the bill as soon as possible." The call completely catches me off guard. I turn around to look at my father's body in the casket. A rush of anger courses through me, but I suppress it and say, "I'm afraid you've made a mistake. My father is no longer a patient at the hospital." "I knew people like you would never admit to it. Do you think you can get away with it just because you snuck him out of the hospital without permission? "I'm giving you 24 hours to complete the payment. You don't want to find out what will happen if you don't!" Well, now I'm furious. "Go ahead and test me."

I was diagnosed with stomach cancer, so I went online to hire an undertaker in the hopes that he would collect my body. That way, I could die and be buried. I would like to finally be at peace, even if it meant that I could only achieve it after death. I packed up my bags and left home in search of a place to die, only to receive a message from my undertaker. [Sorry, something came up. I can’t come now.] …Excuse me? I’m already half-dead, and you’re blowing me off?

I've just received a text from my CEO wife, Cara Lavigne. Apparently, she's gone on another last-minute business trip again, so she can't accompany me to the funeral home. But soon, I see Cara's silhouette being captured in a photo, where she celebrates her assistant, Warren Stone's birthday with him in a work-related post he has just uploaded. The caption reads, "Thank you for the amazing cake, boss! I feel so happy to be able to celebrate my birthday!" I just smile calmly before leaving a like and a comment. "Happy birthday." My colleagues, on the other hand, start betting pools like mad to see what kind of tricks I'm going to pull this time in order to kick up a ruckus. Cara calls me immediately just to scold me. "Warren is just celebrating his birthday, so what's with the comment? He's a very sensitive person, you know! How is he going to survive in this company now that you've passive-aggressively humiliated him in that public post? "It's been barely two years since Warren joined this company, not to mention he doesn't have any friends! What's wrong with me celebrating his birthday with him, huh? People like you, who are born with silver spoons in their mouths, will never understand Warren's plight! "I want you to delete your comment right now! We'll talk more about this once I'm home! Your dad is already dead anyway, so you can just wait for a few more days before claiming his body!" I can only clench my fists tightly as I listen to Cara's heartless and nonchalant words. "No need for that." Once she is back, the divorce procedures will be done.

On my wedding day, my sister was drugged by my fiancé's best friend and viciously assaulted by a group of groomsmen. When she came to, the shame and horror drove her to leap to her death, her broken body crumpling at my feet. Herbert Brady shielded my eyes from the grisly sight, vowing to make things right. But when the truth came out that Lori Reilly was behind it, he smashed my phone to keep me from calling the police. Lori shrugged with mock innocence. "The guys were just messing around. So what if they tore her clothes off? I've been half-naked around them plenty of times. Why was she so fragile?" She slung her arm around Herbert's neck, whining, "I told you not to marry some broke nobody. Poor people have such brittle pride. Look at the mess Mona has made." When I demanded justice, Herbert stayed cool, sliding a Centurion card across the table. "Ten million dollars. Enough to buy your silence? Lori is one of us, part of the city's elite inner circle. Push your luck, and you're making enemies of everyone who runs this town. Come on, it was just a wedding prank gone wrong." I seized the car and snapped it like a twig. Ten million dollars? To buy the life of the Woodard family's cherished heiress?

My wife, Heather Conner, secretly steals the funds I've saved up for our daughter, Naomi Hartman's surgery. After that, she books a high-class hotel for Jared Winters, the low-income student she has been sponsoring, just so she can celebrate his birthday with him. When I find out about it, I demand that Heather return all the money to me. But she slaps me immediately and blames me and Naomi for causing her trouble on purpose. "This is the first birthday Jared and I are celebrating together! Since it's such a big day, it's only natural that I hold it in a grand and lavish manner! "Instead, you two insist on undergoing that stupid surgery just when I've booked the hotel instead of scheduling it at any other time! You really are vile! "I've already inquired with the doctor about the surgery. Turns out it's completely optional! I might as well put the money to good use by giving Jared an unforgettable birthday instead of having you waste it on a useless surgery! "Even if Naomi does end up dying, that means she's fated to die anyway! You can't blame anyone for her death!" Heather just abandons Naomi, who's still fighting for her life. She then drives Jared to the hotel, where they spend the night watching a beautiful fireworks display. With 12 critical notices issued by the doctor in my hand, I kneel before Monica Brown, the richest woman in the city. "I'm willing to marry into your family as long as you pay me 35 thousand dollars' worth of wedding gifts!"