Random Childhood Memory

Nothing brings me back to the fourth grade like one of those barrel kool-aid drinks. You know, those bright blue, red, purple drinks that stain horribly, are a pain to open without spilling, and are really kind of gross? Yeah, those. They're also cheap, which is why my favorite Sunday School teachers in the world bought them every single week to serve to their class of rambunctious nine and ten year olds. It was in that cramped, noisy room that I met one of the most interesting people of my childhood.
That girl had a lot to say, and I was usually the one she said it to. Every week I sat silently with wide eyes to a torrent of elaborate stories, full of amazement. Being very gullible, it took me a while to realize she was a perpetual liar, and very little that she said was true.
I can't remember most of what she told me, but the story of her dead grandfather hasn't left me yet. One Sunday morning she came in and plopped down in the chair next to me as usual. Before I could say a word she started telling me all about how she's getting used to hearing her grandfather's ghost walking around her house. She explained to me that the reason his ghost sticks around is because they keep his body in their living room. I promptly about fell out of my chair shock after hearing this bit of information. I envisioned a living room with a casket stuck in a corner, or maybe used as a side table. I could hear guests being asked to use coasters so their glasses wouldn't mess up the caskets finish. (Do they even finish caskets?)
Like I said I was gullible. I finally got the opportunity to ask where exactly in the living room did they keep his body. The answer was on their mantle. In an urn. I had temporarily forgotten about cremation, and felt somewhat relieved in remembering. I have no clue if her family really did keep his ashes on their mantle, all I know is that it makes for a somewhat humorous memory.