What are 10 weird things about you?
- I believe that dogs have all the answers to our most burning questions (what is the meaning of life, how many licks it truly takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop, where Jimmy Hoffa is buried, why socks go into the laundry as pairs but never seem to come out that way, did aliens build the pyramids), but they simply lack the vocal capabilities with which to inform us.
- I love cookies, but HATE cookie dough ice cream. How is that possible? I’m serious. Can someone please explain this to me? I’ll be your best friend, honest.
- I will go to my grave thoroughly convinced that Pluto was, is, and always will be a planet regardless of what scientists would have us believe. With the way they’re always changing their minds (coffee kills! No, wait, a cup a day can be okay … forget what we told you three minutes ago), can you blame me?
- I never listen to music when writing. That may not seem weird to some, but I’ve seen lots of writers who have “playlists,” or jam out on their ipods when cranking out the chapters. As a guitar player with over twenty years’ experience, I cannot listen to anything while writing because I get so into the tunes that the time I should be writing turns into a mockery of air guitar. No good can come from that. True story.
- My favorite color is blue … and I’m color blind. Wrap your heads around that one! *insert Twilight Zone music here*
- This one goes back to #4 in a way. I may be one of the few guitar players who does not worship Led Zeppelin or Jimmy Hendrix. I’ll understand if you no longer respect me in the morning, but you asked for weird and there it is!
- I used to own hermit crabs (and yes, they were mine even though I claimed I’d bought them for my daughter while vacationing down the Jersey shore) all of which I named after Star Trek characters.
- I’m an Engineer by profession, but around the house I’m the least handy person you’re likely to meet. If it goes beyond hanging a picture, changing a light bulb, or helping my daughter with her Legos, I’m useless. Is that weird? It is to me.
- My memory for movie quotes is encyclopedic, yet ask me what I had for breakfast yesterday and there’s a good chance my answer will be little more than a blank stare.
- When I go out to eat I’ll study the menu meticulously until I’m absolutely sure I’ve decided on what I want. By the time the meal ends up on the table, I’ll wish I’d gotten something else.
About the Book
Title: Funeral with a View
Author: Matt Schiariti
Published: September 28th, 2014
Word Count: 101,000
Content Warning: Mild sexual content, minor profanity and adult themes
Age Recommendation: 18+
Thirty-two-year-old Richard Franchitti didn’t believe in love at first sight until he met free-spirited Catherine and started a brand new life. A devoted father and husband, Richard fought to keep his family together when it would have been easier to walk away.
Tragedy left him with unfinished business.
Now a disembodied spirit, Richard relives his most important days. From the beginnings of unconditional love, to the joy of his daughter’s birth, and all of the difficult times in between, each treasured moment brings him closer to answering the question:
“Why am I still here?”
He was born Richard Franchitti, but his friends call him Ricky. Welcome to his funeral.
Meet the Author
Matt Schiariti is an Engineeer by profession, guitar legend in his own mind, and would-be author, time permitting. When he’s not writing, he’s reading. When he’s not reading, he’s enjoying a beer sporting a fancy name on the label. When he’s not enjoying a fancy-named beer, he’s most likely reading some more. Sometimes he does all three at once, to disastrous effect.
Matt lives in southern New Jersey with his wife, two children, and insane dog. Funeral with a View is his second published novel, but not his last.
You have been warned.
I’d met Catherine Maddox (now the widow Catherine Frachitti) through a friend of mine. My best friend, in point of fact. Bill Henly.
While they were dating.
That tidbit must sound inherently evil. There are rules, especially among guys. The Man Code, to be more specific. Every male on the planet is born with these rules branded into his DNA. Don’t date a friend’s ex, don’t have sex with a friend’s girlfriend, so on and so forth.
Let the record show that I am no home wrecker! Bill and Catherine had been seeing each other when I met her. Nothing serious, and for reasons only known to them, their relationship didn’t last. After Bill did the requisite guy thing (read: talked post-breakup smack about her), I did the right thing and asked him if he’d be okay with me asking her out.
The conversation went something like this:
Me: So, you’re not dating Cat anymore, huh?
Me: Um, would it be cool if I asked her out?
Bill: Yeah, sure.
It was a conversation for the ages. A manly conversation of epic proportions. It may seem flimsy to an outsider, but to guys it was volumes’ worth.
I let the breakup embers fade, and a few weeks later, when I’d mustered up the testicular fortitude, I asked Catherine out. After a moment’s thought, she said yes. And the rest, as they say, is history.
Dating Catherine put no apparent stress on my relationship with Bill. Good looking in an All-American way, he never lacked for female companionship. At six-foot-five and almost as broad, he towered over my meager five-foot-eight. He’d played football in high school and college, earning an athletic scholarship to Princeton University, but blew out his knee in his second year. His spare time no longer filled with practices and games, he hunkered down and focused on his studies which paved the way to his future career as a financial advisor. Still, he remained an ever faithful workout freak. The combination of good looks, muscular build, and his large salary lured many a willing woman into his bed. Catherine was no exception, but that wasn’t entirely Bill’s doing.
The story is a simple one. Back in the day the three of us were nigh inseparable. Catherine and I were always double-dating with Bill and his love du jour. Even if he wasn’t seeing anybody (the exception to the rule), the three of us would go out to eat, see movies, hang out on lawn chairs in the summer drinking concoctions with little umbrellas in them.
It was on one such occasion when things took a change for the pornographic. I’ll never forget that day as long as I live. Or as long as I’m dead.
That day is where this story truly starts.
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