Once Mandy had decided to commit suicide she began to plan things meticulously. This was to be no spontaneous act. Every detail would be thought through.
She searched the internet for methods. She downloaded dozens of coroner’s reports. Timing was all important. No need to be discovered a week after the event.
And then she planned the funeral. It was to be simple yet elegant. No bought flowers by request, but flowers cut from the garden would be most welcome. No turgid hymns but lively renditions of “O happy day!” and “We all live in a yellow submarine”.
All was decided. Mandy would gas herself with the exhaust fumes from her car. But where to park the car? And what to wear? So many important decisions to make. She needed a hose to go from the car’s exhaust to the front seat. Or maybe she should sit in the back seat?
I suppose an ordinary garden hose would do the trick, thought Mandy as she drove to town for a final time to purchase the equipment.
That was when the car skidded on an icy bridge, plunged over the side and plummeted down a steep ravine. Mandy was killed.