Sexing Up the Funeral

“We are gathered here today—”

“Hey. I’m Jack.”

“Shh.”

“—the passing of our own Mary Collick. Dearly—”

“I like your dress. It’s very black.”

“It’s a funeral.”

“You’re dressed for the occasion.”

“—many of our hearts cry in pain for her departure—”

“So, how did you know her?”

“I didn’t. Not really, I mean. She was a pretty distant relative.”

“Oh. Me too.”

“—let the guidance of the angels—”

“What’s your name?”

“Daniel.”

“So you’re like, an extremely effeminate cross dresser? With a boobs?”

“I’ve just got perpetually drunk parents. They meant to write Daniela on my birth certificate, but they ended up passing out before they finished.”

“—in the embrace of our heavenly father—”

“Who’re you texting?”

“Would you quit talking to me? My mom’s looking over here.”

“Hey, I’m not the one texting during a funeral.”

“It’s not like that. My friend’s got a drug problem.”

“And you’re saving them one message at a time?”

“God, just go away!”

“Would you two be quiet?”

“Sorry.”

“Sorry. She started it.”

“I did not!”

“Please…”

“Yeah. Sorry. She’ll be quiet.”

“…I hate you.”

“…And so Adam and Eve—”

“So, she was my great aunt. Twice removed…Why are you ignoring me?”

“You know what? We’re related. So bugger off.”

“That is so hot.”

“Incest?”

“Bugger. The British thing. Wow.”

“We’re still related.”

“Distantly.”

“Well—”

“Young lady!”

“Sorry.”

“She’s sorry.”

“It was his fault.”