Frank wiped the sweat from his brow and the smudged clay from his hands onto his apron.
“Who next?”
Godot flicked through a long list of eulogies.
“Here we go. ‘Mary was a loving wife and mother of three wonderful children. Her help with the elderly will be dearly missed.’”
Frank pondered for a moment.
“Sounds like a brunette.” He began shaping the clay slab in front of him into a plump woman, with long hair and large, round glasses. “Whatcha reckon?”
Godot squinted. “I didn’t bring my glasses, but that will do.”
Frank took the clay model and tossed her into a pile of others. “This lot, are they all getting born today?”
“That’s the plan.” Godot sighed, and rubbed his forehead. “I wished we hadn’t changed to the current system. It was bad enough creating them from scratch, now we have to do it from their damn eulogy. I specifically told the writing department that not every middle-aged woman likes working with the elderly!”
“Should we stop?”
“No, no. We got 1000 more to do before knock-off. Let’s press on.”