My grandfather told me that joke; so I told it at his funeral. There wasn’t a dry eye in the house!
For those of you arriving late:
“So, there was this funeral procession walking out of a church in San Francisco. One of the six pall bearers stumbled on his shoe laces and the coffin tipped forward. The coffin slid down the steep church stairs and continued to slide down one of the steep San Francisco streets. At the bottom of the hill the coffin went sliding through the front door of a pharmacy, slid all the way back to the pharmacy counter and came to a stop as it ran into the pharmacy counter. At that point, the coffin door flew open and the corpse popped up and said, Hey doc, got something to stop this coffin?”
What they really need are Cultural Marxists!
At the same funeral, I got to turn the crank to lower my grandfather in his casket. Well, prior to the funeral. Post wake. Anyway. After several few turns of the screw, I noticed that only one side was going down. I stopped, but couldn’t really find the words to explain what was wrong, and my dad prodded me to continue. I kept turning, and as one side kept getting lower and lower, my grandfathers hands started to unclasp, and I had visions of the entire bottom of the casket dropping out and rolling him onto the floor. A couple more turns though, and it all leveled out. Just as well.
At my uncle’s funeral (same side of the family, 10 years earlier) I commented to my father that I had never seen a woman throw herself on the casket crying “no! no! don’t take him from me!” except in the movies. A few minutes later his widow came over and said to me “If it would make you feel better, I could do that.” I declined.
Perhaps foolishly. Still haven’t seen it.
“We found it was easier to just switch the heads!”
I’ll be here all week, folks – try the RSS feed! Don’t forget to tip our servers! And if you see that Luck Dragon, remind him that he owes me a fiver!
