The Most Embarrassing of All Possible Funerals - March 6, 2007
I awoke to see my father and my uncle loading a motor-home wearing t-shirts and shorts. Three things were wrong with this:
1. They were loading a motor-home.
2. They were wearing shorts and t-shirts.
3. We were going to a funeral.
I stared at them, in my suit, slack-jawed. "Hey... uh... Dad?" At this, both my Uncle Mike and my father turned their heads. "Are you guys seriously going to take a motor-home to a funeral?"
"Well no shit Sherlock, did you have to go to NASA to figure that out? There's no sense in all of us driving up separately."
I looked at them for a while longer. "I mean... for real?"
They looked at me angrily.
"Really?"
"Brandon!" They roared in unison.
I turned to go back into the house, paused, and turned back. "Are you guys at least going to change your clothes?"
This time it was my father that spoke up. "Fuck Brandon! Get some sense! It's the summer... it's too fucking hot to wear anything else."
I tried to explain to them that the family of the deceased might like it if they showed a little respect by wearing suits, but they wouldn't listen. I figured I could always just distance myself from them at the funeral.
Over the course of the next half an hour, the Woods clan came together. Women with the build of dinosaurs and men with swaggering bellies parked their cars in my front yard, cussing and slapping each other on the back. It was going to be a tight, hot, smelly two hours to the funeral.
I was crammed into a 33 foot by 4 foot space with about fifteen of my relatives. I felt like I was on a charter plane to some African nation in civil war. One of my aunts was wearing a muumuu and had chocolate from a candy bar smeared all over her face. A whole array of toddlers, dressed only in diapers and shirts, crawled around on the floor.
Only an hour on the road and I could tell we were going to be late. The motor that was strong enough to carry over ten tons of steel and accessories was not strong enough to carry all of my larger than life relatives. We were driving at a snail's pace.
Despite the fact that we were running late, everyone decided that the children were hungry. Everyone was so eager to feed the children, in fact, that when I suggested Del Taco might not be a suitable diet for them, I was politely told that it was the "closest" and I needed to stop being an "asshole."
Fifteen minutes later everyone in the motor-home, but me, was stained with salsa and refried beans. I heaved a heavy sigh. I could have tried to explain... but no one would have understood what was wrong.
I spent the remainder of the trip trying to avoid having one of my aunts exhale her taco-breath into my face. When I saw the funeral parlor I was actually relieved.
However, from my vantage point in the middle of a crowd of my sweaty, tightly packed relatives, I could not see that there was no one in the parking lot. The funeral had already started.
"Fuck, the funeral has already started!" my uncle Mike roared.
"Then I guess we'll just have to wait down here till it's done," I offered.
It might be a little awkward afterwards when we met with the family, but I figured that after all we had been through already it would hardly matter.
My uncle, as if he hadn't heard me, yelled, "Damn it! We'll never be able to walk up there before it's done!"
At this point my "oh shit" face was on in full force. I rested my chin against my chest, and sighed.
"Well then just drive up the fucking hill, Mike. Don't be a pussy." I looked at the heavens and asked God why my father had to say that.
I did not see it, but I can imagine that after being called "a pussy" my Uncle Mike began to shift gears and head up the hill the funeral was taking place on.
Imagine this scene: as your mother is being laid down to eternal rest, tears of sorrow falling down your face as the preacher, quite literally, is saying "ashes to ashes dust to dust", a 33 ft motor-home full of relatives you have never liked comes roaring up the hill, and parks right next to the whole procession. The preacher stops reading his lines, mouth agape, and the whole assembly turns their head to the new spectacle that has entered the scene.
From in between a pair of plastic blinds you can make out the looks on everyone's face. It is one part horror and one part "is this really happening?" Just as you think the tragedy can't get any worse, the door swings open and a large woman in a muumuu with dried, crusty chocolate on her face steps out followed by a flood of toddlers in diapers. More of the same follows. Last to exit this motor-home are two men in shorts and tank tops, both of whom take a moment to light a cigarette before shaking hands and asking everyone "how the fuck" they're doing.
My great Aunt Tabitha's daughter was stunned beyond rage. She even stopped crying she was so taken aback. Her mother, a wonderful, bright and happy woman was being put into the earth and my Uncle Mike was coughing deeply, as he had just finished a cigarette, throughout the end of the process. He had interrupted the closing moment of a great old woman's life, and as far as I could tell, didn't seem to notice.
At least he wasn't a pussy.
I hid in the motor-home and wondered if it was possible to hang myself with dental floss.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: My family actually reads this site, and I want to make it clear that while I sometimes make fun of them (often with good reason) that I love every member of my family... except my sister Rachel. Fuck her.
Posted by BC Woods at 12:06 AM
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Comments
one of the funniest yet, BC!
Posted by: Anonymous at March 6, 2007 04:24 PM
This is terrific BC. (charter planE)
Posted by: HybridVigor at March 6, 2007 04:43 PM
This was fucking great! I laughed so fucking hard!!!
Posted by: Christi Lee at March 6, 2007 05:02 PM
PICTURES WE WANT PICTURES!!
Posted by: Anonymous at March 6, 2007 07:21 PM
Brandon,
I have the build of a dinosaur?
Asshole.
Love,
Aunt Debbie
FROM BC: Sorry Aunt Debbie. Everyone, listen up: my Aunt Debbie does not have the build of dinosaur. All the other people on the other hand... let's just say they're full of love.
Posted by: Anonymous at March 6, 2007 07:58 PM
Was anyone drunk enough to fall into the grave?
Posted by: Crystal336 at March 6, 2007 09:08 PM
Does your family find this as funny as I do?
Posted by: Hawk at March 7, 2007 12:24 PM
Dude...how do I respond to something like that? I guess you pretty much covered it with this.
Posted by: Wayland at March 7, 2007 12:37 PM
Great writing, but funny?
I never cracked a smile. I enjoyed reading, but above all I felt sorry for you. I'm not sure I understand why people would laugh at this...
Keep posting! The work is appreciated.
Posted by: Ned at March 7, 2007 12:59 PM
Sadly enough... This sounds like my family. Except I don't have a sister named Rachel.
Posted by: Jason at March 7, 2007 07:59 PM
Hehe... Thank God I found this site when Java class started; it's boring as shit and your stories make me interrupt my class with laughter.
Although I'm sure I wouldn't have been laughing had I been in your position... I guess that's the beauty of it.
Keep up the good work, sir.
Posted by: Cameron at March 7, 2007 09:53 PM
"I love every member of my family... except my sister Rachel. Fuck her."
Even though it had nothing to do with the story i found that simple little line to be genius in itself. mostly because i've read all your other storys and it fits the theme so wel. kudos.
Posted by: Commenter at March 8, 2007 12:19 AM
Fucking hilairious!
Posted by: Milton at March 8, 2007 07:50 PM
I like your stories the best because you know how to appreciate a fucked up embarassing family. I've been loving mine for years. Keep it up.
Posted by: beamfan at March 8, 2007 08:00 PM
Awesome. Keep 'em coming.
Posted by: Spelch at March 9, 2007 03:30 PM
Remember to accept the things you cannot change, and your family is definately something you cannot change but change the things you can and that means you and only you can change.
Posted by: kathy at March 9, 2007 09:08 PM
I had a similar experience at my mother's funearl, except there wasnt a motor-home, but a sea of pick-up trucks, and while the preacher was doing the "Ashes to Ashes" Part, I clearly heard my cousin Issac yell( to apparently be heard over the mourner's cries) to my other cousin "How much longer is this? I've got the four-wheeler fixed up right for mudd boggin' and that rain gonna dry up soon, you comin'" "Shit yeah!"
Posted by: Ashley at March 11, 2007 09:53 PM
well i knew this would be a fantastic story right from the very first line. holy crap, "how the fuck are you doing?"
Posted by: eric at March 14, 2007 09:08 AM
Where the fuck are you from? How many families are like this out there?
I need clarification so I know not to enter that state,province/city/town/households.
BC: Aberdeen, Washington
Posted by: WTF? at March 14, 2007 07:47 PM
Aberdeen, the home of kurt cobain, which he described as 'white trash hell', bc, is there any talk of kurt around there and did he make any sort of change as far as affecting the youth through his music?,i ask b/c i am a huge nirvana fan and ive read that one of his goals was to reach kids in places like aberdeen
BC: I cannot even start to tell you about Kurt Cobain and Aberdeen because I wouldn't be able to stop myself.
Posted by: winnipeg guy at March 17, 2007 02:53 PM
is that good or bad?(the things you wouldnt be able to stop talking about)
BC: Aberdeen is the strangest place on the planet Earth. I cannot even begin to go into depth about all the weird shit that happens there (there's 13 cornered dirt road intersection in the middle of Wishkah that I'm pretty sure is occasionally inhabited by Satan for example). My real name is also the name of a world famous Yeti expert working out of Aberdeen that I have been mistaken for on numerous occasions.
Every year we get about 120" of rain fall, which is more than anywhere else outside of the tropics ON THE ENTIRE FACE OF THE PLANET EARTH. LIterally, I grew up in the place that outside of a rainforest, got more rain fall than anywhere else on the globe.
We also have a giant statue at the community college of a guy with a piece of rope that looks like a serial murderer named Charlie Choker. He's the school's mascot. Yeah, it is supposed to be about logging, but in reality it looks like a chainsaw carving made by Charlie Manson. I was walking by it once in the middle of the night and I turned around, saw him in the dark, and almost screamed because his big dopey wooden grin seemed to say "I'm going to come to life and kill you, and no matter how hard you run, I'll always be behind you."
Also, my junior year, two seniors lit themselves on fire, put themselves out, and were considered local heroes.
I have to stop now. Trust me, Kurt Cobain could not do justice to Aberdeen.
Posted by: winnipeg guy at March 18, 2007 10:50 PM
hahahaha,i know what you mean,being from a place like winnipeg,if you've heard about it you would know
Posted by: winnipeg guy at March 18, 2007 11:41 PM
You must have some AWESOME things to say about the nature vs. nurture debate.
Posted by: Ex-roommate Kevin S. at March 19, 2007 01:12 AM
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