Date: a soft October night
J. Alfred Prufrock is dead. He was found dead in half-deserted narrow street with the bottom of his trousers rolled by lonely men in shirt-sleeves, leaning out of window. His death was confirmed by his neighbor who saw him come back from the death and said “I shall tell you all” many times. The suspected cause of death is either poisoned by someone after a tedious argument or Oyster poisoning (someone saw him eating Oyster that evening in Sawdust Restaurant). People walk around his body, muttering, and the women come and go talking about his death. People die, we know that, and he knows that: he always said “there will be time.” Prufrock was known as a shy guy who parts his hair behind and never dare to eat a peach. May Prufrock sleep peacefully. Soon, his overwhelming question will be answered and the mermaids will sing to him, maybe the sea-girls too.
P.S: This obituary is not what I meant at all; that is not it, at all.