AS a boy, Richard imagined his funeral taking place in a packed football stadium where the only person crying harder than his family and friends was his beautiful but aloof classmate Becky, regretting the error of her ways. As Richard grew, he nurtured the fantasy, and the mourners came to include world leaders and women he worked with, their barely contained pneumatic breasts surging with every sob. Lately, however, middle age upon him, his funereal reveries were trespassed upon by real life: namely, his wife, Jacinta. Richard had some imagination, but even he couldn’t bring tears to her eyes.