The culch (useful junk), box for those glorious moments when. "I've got to be a Insert costume here tomorrow." arrive. -- Anon Guest
JOAT Erin had passed from this life and into whichever afterlife ze found the most entertaining. Pantheists such as Erin were expected to shop around in several for a few years and send a sign when they'd found the right one. Since Erin had no family that accepted hir, and no progeny to take up their work, the assembled JOAT community was holding a Memorial Rummage.
Rael attended, of course. He was an atheist and couldn't find a Belief that took him over like it seemed to in others. Besides, it was hard to revere ones creators when one had witnessed them bumbling around before their morning stimulants, and often wearing last week's custard stains. This was to be the fate of his belongings when he met his inevitable demise. Assuming that he didn't have time to make a will. Or couldn't bother, like the late Erin had.
Three to five Aunties were rearranging Erin's things on tables. Tools were laid out with reverence. Clothing, too. Even the underwear. These were the things that JOAT Erin had touched the most, and therefore the closest things to Erin's spirit. Any residual energies from Erin were likely to remain there. The local chapter of the Nae'hyn arrived to give rites to them.