The Fault in Our Pants: A Parody of “The Fault in Our Stars”

Augustus Waters died nine days after his prefuneral, in the ICU of Memorial Hospital.

I got the call from his mom at three-thirty in the morning. My parents came in and tried to comfort me, but there was nothing they could do. After my parents left my room, letting me know they’d be right outside if I needed anything, I pulled out my laptop and opened up Augustus’ Facebook page. The condolences were already flooding onto his wall. The most recent one said:

“RIP, bro.”

…written by someone I’d never heard of. I knew for a fact this person hadn’t seen Augustus in months, and hadn’t even made the effort to come visit him. So how well could he even know Augustus?

I read the next post:

Dear Augustus Waters,

$$$$$$$ Want to make $150-$200/hour working from home? $$$$$$$

Contact me for a FREE information package!!!

SATISFACTION GUARANTEED!!

It was galling. Here was another “friend” who hadn’t even bothered to call or email Augustus while he was still alive. And now, finally, he reaches out? Is this what friendship had become?

I read some more posts:

Will never forget our Genie Wish Trip to Madrid. xoxo  –Jen

Our Wish Trip to Rome was the best five days of my life. I will always love you. –Erika

You + Me + Paris Wish Trip = Remember 4-Eva! Okay? Okay. –Phoebe

While it was annoying to see all these posts from people who didn’t know Augustus well like I did, it was touching to see how he’d made a positive impact on so many lives.

***

The funeral, like the prefuneral, was held in the Literal Anus of Jesus Church. Beforehand, a line of people waited to walk up to Augustus’ coffin, where they would look at him for a while, some of them crying, some just standing in silence. I got in line. When it was my turn, I walked up and knelt next to Augustus, who was wearing the same suit and thong he’d worn to Oranjee.

I snapped open my clutch, reached in, and took out the strap-on Mom had given me in Amsterdam. In a quick motion I hoped nobody would see, I snuck it into the space between Augustus’ arm and the coffin’s silver lining. “Sorry we only got to use this once,” I said. “We’ll use it again someday. I promise.”

***

The funeral service began with the minister recapping various events in Augustus’ life, all of which I knew. While he was doing this, I kept noticing this sipping sound a few rows behind me, like someone had an empty soda. It was incredibly rude, and finally I turned around to see who it was. I was stunned to see Peter Van Houten in the last row, wearing a white linen suit and sipping loudly from his beer helmet.

I tried to forget about Van Houten and just listen to the service. The minister called up Isaac to speak, and then a high school friend, and then an uncle. After the uncle was finished, the minister announced, “We’ll now hear a few words from Augustus’ fuckbuddy, Hazel.”

There were some titters in the audience, so I figured it was safe for me to start out by saying to the minister, “I was his girlfriend. As well as his fuckbuddy.” That got a laugh. Then I began reading from the eulogy I’d written.

“There’s a great quote in Augustus’ house, one that both he and I found very comforting: Taste good but…I CAN’T FEEL MY WHISKERS!!!”

I went on reciting Cat-couragements as Augustus’ parents, arm in arm, hugged each other and nodded at every word. I’d given my real eulogy at the prefuneral. This funeral was for them.

***

The rest of the funeral and the burial ceremony were pretty standard. I tried to ignore the fact that Peter Van Houten was there, but this became impossible when after the burial ceremony he came up to me as my parents and I were getting into our car.

“Any chance I could grab a ride with you folks?” he said. “Left my rental at the bottom of the hill.”

I was going to say no but Mom said, “Sure.” She knew it was Peter Van Houten, but she was also unfailingly polite. So Peter Van Houten joined me in the back seat. I didn’t want to talk to him, but I also really wanted to know why he was at the funeral.

“So why are you even here?” I asked.

“I’m here because Augustus is my bro,” he said. “And bros support bros. It’s the bro code.”

Augustus had mentioned to me he’d exchanged some emails with Peter Van Houten after our trip. But he never told me they’d become bros. I guess he assumed it would make me upset. Which was correct, of course. But they were now bros, so there was nothing I could do about it.

“Would you like a sip?” Van Houten said, pointing at his beer helmet.

“Hazel,” Mom said, but I nodded at Van Houten, and he took off his beer helmet and placed it on my head. I took a long sip from it and he took the helmet back.

We pulled up at Van Houten’s car. “It was a pleasure seeing you again,” he said, “albeit under sad circumstances.”

“Yep,” I said, not even looking at him. “A true pleasure.”

“I’ll be seeing you folks at the will reading, I presume?”

“Wait, why are you going to the will reading?” I asked.

“Augustus didn’t tell you? As his closest bro, he’s leaving me the bulk of his possessions. Not that there’s anything that valuable there, but I thought it’d be the right thing to go.”

“I guess we’ll see you there,” I said.

Van Houten got out of the car. As we drove away, I saw him pull out two fresh beers from his pockets. I thought he’d get rid of the old cans before putting the new ones in his helmet, but in one motion, he slammed the new cans into the helmet, flattening the old cans. It was actually pretty impressive.