2
Everyone was being ushered into the church as we arrived. A combination of big sunglasses and painfully fashionable lateness meant I could ditch Pedro to mingle, slip inside, nip and grab a seat at the front and avoid all eye contact.
I don’t want to be shot a look of comfort. I don’t need a pat on the back. I don’t have anything to mournfully reminisce upon. I’m just here to push the numbers up and bask worry free in everyone’s pain and force a favourite sibling to stand at the back due to lack of chairs.
“We are gathered here today…
…To mourn the passing…
…Of our dear friend…”
the priest tried to appear as though he was speaking slowly, solemnly, respectfully, but it was obvious that he was just wracking his brains trying to remember what little information he had garnished from the wallet he pilfered from the corpse.
“…Edgar…”
“…An avid user of public transport…and collector of number 86 bus tickets…”
“…Unlike so many, he had staunch faith in the movie rental industry, and much like his youthful exuberance, he retained his blockbuster card to the very end…”
The dog collared whackonteur was clearly just practicing his public speaking to some human ears and shiny eyeballs.
“…And though many of us never understood his love for garden gnomes…”
A piteous chuckle moved through the room then vanished like a spark of electricity. Everyone breaking from their grief for a second, then falling hard back into it when they realised that hacky warmed over sentiment from a total stranger does very little to ease any pain.
The room was silent, but the consensus rang loud and clear and hovered in the atmosphere;
“Who is this obvious sex offender? And why was he given the floor and allowed in on our in jokes for the day?”
I’ve never understood why funerals and send offs are left to be compered by any random who has spent a few years of his life a million miles away from society in a seminary, secretly wanking and then crying about it.
These people know nothing of their own lives, let alone enough to comment on other peoples.
Its pretty clear that god has stopped watching us by that point, why do we need his middle man there sitting smug and fudging our final proceedings like a late and condescending hallmark card.
Just get whoever is crying least at the time to stand up and shout “EVERYONE, GRAB A LIMB OR SOME MATCHES, WE’RE BLAZING THIS VESSEL AND SENDING IT BURNING DOWN THE RIVER”
“Please stand for the hymn…”
A tune nobody knew piped up from an elevator Casio Hammond preset and the priest bellowed over unsure dirge from the rest of the room, resisting the urge to click his fingers on the downbeat, like a true honky. Christians love a good sing song.
The rest of the service went well, with not so much incident. More lame poorly timed jokes. More irrelevant points that neither summed up nor championed a human life. Uneventful.
One person did run to the front screaming “NO, I WONT LET YOU GO”, then straddled hysterically and tried to climb inside the casket, but she was quickly and summarily dispatched by security wielding air rifles and horse tranqs.
Then a red light flashed at the back of the room and the pall bearers came on stage to wrap things up.
Quick service, but they had a Bar mitzvah double booked and needed to get rid of us sharpish.
I could see another priest in the back room ditching his choker and fashioning a yarmulke from a coffee filter, whilst holding the hand of a small child.
Unscrupulous bastards.
Tomorrow, its Muslim prayer morning followed by the gay Rastafarian movement’s book club meeting.
We stepped out into the beautiful spring air, amidst echoing lies of “what a beautiful service…”
Pedro quivered and burst into tears. Small whimpers escalating through moans, yelps and blubs, finally to full scale pudgy red faced wails.
There was still a fair way to walk to the grave site. I didn’t want to be seen in public with this emotional wreck. I wanted to slap him with a glass of water and scream “Pull yourself together man! Cant you see you are embarrassing me?”
But I’ve never been good at consolation, so i patted him on the back and said
“I fancy a McDonalds breakfast…See you at the wake, yeah?”
Then went and sat in my car alone for an hour or so.
