Yeah, that guy.

So I almost got caught in the cemetery this evening. I sneak in, you see, under cover of darkness, with my gold leaf kit and a little red LED flashlight, and apply gilding to the lettering on randomly selected headstones. I'm good at it--patient, meticulous. A complete gilding job on three or four stones will take me most of the night, and then I have to select other headstones and apply sealant to the carved letters, making them ready for my next trip out.

This evening I couldn't find the headstones I had sealed last weekend, so I spent some time shining my light about, discreetly, but not discreetly enough to avoid catching the attention of a passing member of the local constabulary. I took refuge in one of the small mausoleums--the lock on it has been broken for months, but not by me--while he drove his car up the long driveway and aimed his light among the headstones and monuments, but didn't see me peering out at him. He didn't notice my work, either. When it's done, it looks like the family of whoever's buried beneath the headstone sprang for the Deluxe Package.

Part of the reason I couldn't find a sealed stone to work on is because I've already gilded so many of them. That's the plan: gild all of them. All of them, except one. One headstone, out of 886 graves--I've counted--will remain plain and unadorned. It will stand out, to the observant. People who notice these sorts of things will see it and say, "Why is that headstone, out of all of these stones, free of gold?" Maybe they'll wonder about who's buried there, and whether there's any significance to his plain headstone.

And there is.

I fucking hated that guy.