“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to celebrate the
life of Paula Bryan, a loving grandmother, a friend of the community, and a
mentor to the most vulnerable members of our society. She passed away this past
Saturday night due to natural causes at the age of ninety-one years young. She
is survived by her children and grandchildren and remembered by all of the
lives she has touched. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, earth to earth, and…”
PTHHHHHHHHHHHH!
The sunshine-filled graveyard was tainted with the odor of a
digested Philly cheese steak sandwich eaten by the heaviest member of this
funeral procession, Chris Antonio. Despite the suppressed laughter and wicked
stares of the black-clad funeral attendees, he threw his hands up defensively
and said, “That’ll send some tremors through here.”
The red robed priest Garth Roy snapped his bible shut, took
the glasses off of his bald head, and snarled at Chris, “Do you mind? We’re
trying to have a funeral and here you are just blasting away! Control yourself!”
“Sorry,” said Chris as he ashamedly tucked his chin with the
other attendees.
“As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted,” said
Reverend Roy. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, earth to earth, and…”
Another nuclear blast was exhumed from Chris’s butt cheeks
and the family and friends of Mrs. Bryan coughed, hacked, wheezed, and held
their noses at the stench. Chris’s cheeks were redder than the roses on the
casket.
“What do you have to say for yourself, you little twit?!”
fired Garth.
“Sorry again. You should probably get some new roses for the
casket, they’re going to die within seconds,” joked Chris, which earned him
some not-so-suppressed laughter from the younger members of the service.
“Enough!” shouted Garth while throwing down his bible. His authoritative
shriek was enough to kill the laughter and command his due attention. “We’re
trying to bury this poor woman and your fat ass is ruining the entire ceremony!
If you’re that gassy, there are restrooms right over there!” he said while
pointing to said destination with his arthritis-pained finger.
“Ruining?” said Chris with his hands on the wide hips of his
black slacks and gray suit jacket. “Ruining, my ass! Actually, that’s probably
not the right verbiage I want to use.” The laughter continued much to the
teeth-gritting chagrin of Reverend Garth Roy. “But seriously, is that really
all you want from us? To cry all day long? Let’s be honest, Reverend: you can
spell funeral without F-U-N.”
“Fun?! You think this is fun?! A woman just died last Saturday
and all you can think about is your disgusting colon?!” bellowed Garth with his
arms flailing. “The video arcade is down the street from here! If you want to
have fun and act like a damned child, go over there! We’re here to celebrate
Paula Bryan’s life and we’re not going to have you screw everything up!”
“But see, that’s the thing, Reverend Roy: we are celebrating
Mrs. Bryan’s life by having a good laugh at this,” said Chris. “You want to
know how she became such a well-known mentor to people like me? By putting
smiles on our faces, that’s how. She didn’t take life too seriously. She
enjoyed a good fart joke every now and then. Speaking of which…” With that,
Chris Antonio lifted his right leg and let out another thunderstorm of
flatulence, which earned an equal amount of laughter and jeers. He mockingly
waved his hand over his nose and said, “Phew! This place smells like we’re
standing over a dead body, am I right? Hell, we might as well move this
ceremony to the bus station bathroom. It’d smell better, that’s for sure.”
The laughter continued except with Reverend Garth Roy, who
picked his bible back up off the ground and slowly crept towards Chris before
whacking him over the head with it. The overweight gas machine rubbed the top
of his skull and said, “Ow, what did you do that for?!”
“If Paula Bryan were alive today, she would strangle you
with her husband’s belt, you sick bastard!” whispered Garth with raspy rage. “She’s
looking down at all of us from heaven with disgust!” The laughter died more sorrowfully
than Paula Bryan. Everybody’s tear-stained eyes were locked onto their church
leader as he gave his hellfire oratory. “She won’t be looking down on you
anymore, Chris, because one of these days, you’re going to burn in the ninth
circle of hell for turning this procession into a circus! You’re a disgrace to
the lord’s name and you’re a disappointment to the memory of Paula Bryan! Get
out! Take your feces-stained underwear somewhere else! Go on! Move it!”
Chris’s pudgy face became even more saggy with his dour
frown. He tucked his chin and turned around to try and walk away. He stopped
after only a few feet and held his chest in pain. “I don’t feel so good.”
“Neither do any of us, Mr. Antonio! We’re at a funeral!”
shouted Garth. “Be on your way! Take your farty-party over to the local middle
school!” The attendees chuckled at the term “farty-party” before being silenced
yet again with, “I’m serious!” With all soaked eyes on him, Garth commanded,
“If anybody else thinks this whole thing is a joke, feel free to take a walk
with Mr. Antonio! You can stand at his side, but try not to stand behind him!”
The attendees chuckled to where Garth threw his bible on the ground yet again
and screamed through gritted teeth.
In the midst of this “farty-party”, Chris dropped down to
both knees and breathed heavily while clutching his chest. “Oh god, oh dear
god,” he said while attendees were gathered around trying to help him to his
feet.
“You see what you’ve done, Chris?!” belted Garth. “The good
lord is striking you down and it’s too late for atonement! How do those
hellfire flames feel, Chris?! I said, how do they feel?!”
With the attendees’ arms locked around his elbows, Chris
managed to make it to his feet, but not without spaghetti legs and a dazed
psyche. “Oh no, not now. No, no, no! Please forgive me, Paula. I love you.” But
instead of falling down on his face and meeting the devil, he let out another
cloud of nauseating diesel fumes. The funeral goers laughed once again.
“Goddamn it!” shouted Garth as he jumped up and down
stomping the grass.
“I think the good Reverend over there just used the lord’s
name in vain,” said Chris with a hearty smile. “I don’t think he should be
directing this funeral anymore. Do you guys feel the same way?”
While the friends and family of Mrs. Bryan cheered, Reverend
Roy held his nose and mouth under his robe and coughed violently. In his wild
attempt at sucking down fresh air, he knocked the casket over and Paula’s body
rolled out onto the grass. The heavy laughter turned to gasping shock as
everybody realized what Garth just did, albeit accidentally.
Holding his hands up defensively, Garth said, “I didn’t mean
to. I’ll put her back inside, no problem.”
The onlookers, Chris included, watched in horror as Garth
desperately tried to put pieces of Paula’s withered body back inside the
casket. His face still scrunched up a the vile odor of Chris’s farts. Now the
scent of an old lady’s corpse invaded his nostrils like a new form of nasal
rape. He coughed and wheezed once more, but this time fell into the six foot
hole in which Paula was supposed to be buried in.
Tears welled up in Garth’s eyes, even more so than when the
funeral began and this was all about death and depression. Chris and the
onlookers gazed down at him while the pudgy protégé said, “Asses to asses, dust
to dust, may you rest in feces, I mean, pieces, I mean peace, damn it, peace!”
“I give up! I fucking give up!” yelled Garth as he punched
and kicked the dirt beneath him.
Above the grave, Chris and the others laughed and hugged
each other. This time, their smiles remained permanent. If there really was
such thing as smiling down from heaven, Paula Bryan was doing it with her most
beautiful expression. From beyond the grave, she brought happiness and love to
those who needed it the most. “Don’t cry because it’s over. Smile because it
happened.” That was her favorite Dr. Seuss quote and for good reason.
