With heartfelt sympathy and the deepest of unease, the family and loved ones of Sir Arthur Cobblebottom announce his untimely passing.
In 1943, as Arthur was on an expedition to Egypt while the rest of the world was fighting it out in Europe, he happened upon an ancient tomb of some unknown person. Although the locals begged him not to enter, he ignored their warnings.
Several curses were listed at the entrance and at each step of the tomb, each more horrifying than the last. Although Arthur paid them no mind, they each came to fruition, until the last one finally ended his suffering.
It started just as the curse had said: that he would get a weird ache in his elbow that would never exactly heal. It wouldn't hurt a lot, or all the time, but it would bug him a tad every now and then, and after he'd slept on it weird.
Not long after that, he started losing his hair—perhaps the cruelest curse of them all. That's the one that really made him realize the folly of his excursion.
After a few years of excruciating hair loss, just as the curses had warned, Arthur started needing to get up more often during the night to use the toilet. He'd find himself more and more tired from the sleep disturbance, and began to plead with the fates to forgive him for having desecrated the tomb so many years before.
Things continued to get worse when he was ready to buy a house, but, just as the curses had foretold, interest rates rose to near 5%. No one could deny the cause.
It continued like that for the rest of his life until finally, at age 102, his heart unexpectedly stopped beating while he was mountain climbing in Spain. The gods must have their justice, supposes his family.
There will be a service at the Lakeshore Cathedral at 10:30 a.m. on Tuesday.