You may recall a couple of months ago, that my son had gotten some pet triops - tiny aquatic creatures from the age of the dinosaurs. Well, sadly, one died. My son scooped it out of the tank and put it in a soup bowl. It stayed on the counter for a couple of days.
"Bubba, what are you planning on doing with this dead triop?" I asked.
"It has to have a funeral."
"Can we get on with the funeral, because I really don't want to stare and its lifeless body anymore."
He took the bowl and marched into the bathroom. Then he lifted the toilet lid.
I stood by his side. "Would you like to say a few words before you send him off to his watery grave?"
The boy thought a moment. "Triop, you were a good pet. Thanks for the memories."
I raised my eyebrows and nodded. "Rest in peace, Triop. So glad I didn't have to take care of you!"
With that, Bubba dumped it into the toilet, pushed the handle, and flushed it down.
And that, ladies and gentlemen, is how a triop funeral is conducted.