This one was in my head when I woke up this morning. Don't know how that happens.
My Funeral
I always wanted to find out what people would say at my funeral. Now I have my chance.
They're all assembled this fine spring day, with the cherry blossoms falling like a gentle rain.
My casket is poised for the final six-foot journey, the piled dirt covered by a cheap green indoor-outdoor carpet, the digger some distance off behind a temporary screen.
My sister is doing the honors as she's a part-time internet preacher, has a certificate and everything.
I'm off to one side, black hat and veil I got from a costume store. Sexy Widow the package said!
And I do look sexy, black mesh stockings and tiny black skirt, some kind of crocheted triangle shawl that just covers my nipples.
And the hat. And nothing else. Already I got a few glares and some smiles, but I've always had eccentric friends and I play the part well.
Anyway, my sister is starting.
"Hey! You lot! Pipe down! This is my sister here! Have some respect!"
Always the picture of tact, my big sister. I feel a little surge of pride, she cares enough to harangue my friends.
She's always cared, but it's the little things that get you in the feels. A little tear starts down one cheek.
The crowd chatter quiets and folks turn expectantly.
"So, this is gonna be different. Like my sister. Always a little strange, but that's why we loved her."
That got nods from the crowd.
Bob opens a cardboard box, pulls out some plastic champagne glasses. Cherise pops a cork, begins to pour while Bob hands them out.
Cherise looks extra cool today. She's always cool somehow, even naked and cumming on my chin.
But today in her skin-tight tailored black Brooks Brothers she's a million bucks.
Wool skirt, blazer, those priceless legs going an improbable distance to her perfect feet in matching pumps. How may pumps does she own?
When everybody has a glass ready, Sis begins again.
"My dearly beloved. Well, some of you anyway." A titter from the crowd. Sis can be prickly, but she really does love everybody here.
In fact, she's bedded most of them, Bob included even though she's a 100-percent dyed-in-the-wool motorcycle-riding crewcut dyke.
Bob is gay enough, so it worked for both of them. I dunno, I've licked a few cunts in my day, so whatever floats their boat.
"You all knew my sister. Hell, most of you 'knew' her more than once.
I figure she doesn't want us crying over her. So instead, we're gonna laugh."
Hey! I do wanna see some tears today. That's kind of the point, coming to your own funeral.
"I'll start it off. After each tale of sex and debauchery and selfishness and glorious generosity..."
Here her voice caught, and she took a shaky breath.
"After each tale we're gonna take a drink. Hell, drain the glass, Bob has a whole case here."
Everybody looked at Bob, who was holding up a bottle in each hand, grinning.
"As we drink, we'll loosen up and the stories will get better.
When we can't think of anything else to say, or when we're all shitfaced, whatever comes first, well that'll be it."
Some folks were already taking a drink. Some of them needed it.
Sis took a drink too, nerving herself.
"My sister is, my sister was, an idiot. Not a school-dunce idiot. Not a can't-balance-her-checkbook idiot.
She was a love idiot. She'd fall in love after one date, meet somebody at the corner market, take home some sad lost puppy after a party, tell them she loved them, and would love them forever.
One guy, and yes, she fucked guys too, she met at one of my motorcycle rallies. Hill climbing, dirt and dust and mud and exhaust fumes so you can't hardly breath.
She hated that shit, but she came for me because I had a chance to place. And she just wanted to be there, see me win or die trying anyway.
So early trials, some young punk new at it, on a bike that isn't even made for climbing, a street bike for shit's sake!
Anyway, over-throttles on the break, spills. Hardly got anywhere, didn't even get to the climb proper.
So, he goes over backward, the bike misses him by some miracle, tumbling down the slope like Eval Knievel on a bad day.
Rolls and rolls, the wheels still spinning and the bike bucking down the slope and him hanging on to the handlebar like a rodeo clown.
Comes to a stop about where Sis is standing. There in her flouncy skirt and heels, push-up bra and pink lipstick, looking like fucking Suzy-q the high school slut."
Some faces flushed at that, remembering. It was one of my best looks!
"So he's in the dirt looking up at her. She reaches down, to give him a hand, I guess. He takes it, tries to heave himself to his feet.
Anyway she's 100 pounds maybe dripping wet, or covered in cum, whatever. And he's 210 and mostly muscle. So it doesn't go well.
Over she goes, like a bowling pin. Does a sort of lurching flip but ends up on top of him. Straddling him, crotch to face."
A laugh. Good. Breaks the ice, lights the mood.
"And Suzy-q the slut doesn't wear panties, I'm not sure she owned any.
He has this look of panic on his face, well in his eyes, can't see his face.
A nice boy, not used to sucking off girls before he's been properly introduced, doesn't know what to do.
She's not flustered. Never seen her flustered come to think of it.
So she's kneeling over this guy, he's smelling her cooch.
She pulls up the front of her skirt, looks him in the eye, says to him, "Hey, as long as you're down there, I lost a condom the other day. Could you maybe look for it?"
The crowd breaks up. Not the funniest story or my best line but this crowd needed to laugh, and it's good enough.
"So end of the story, the medic lifts her off, checks him out. Bruised, not bleeding, but maybe a fractured ulna.
Sis volunteers to take him to the ER. Off they go.
They never made it to the ER. Went back to his place, she fucked him all weekend, Memorial Day weekend so yeah.
After the holiday she did take him to the ER, bone broken in two places. Loving my sister could make you forget about trivial shit like that.
They weren't a couple for long, he moved back to Denver or some shit, no hard feelings but a job came up. A nice guy. Greg? Something like that."
A voice in the crowd hollers "Craig!"
Everybody looks, it's him, of course he's here, all the way from Denver. Folks raise their glass to him, he nods gravely.
Everybody takes a drink; some drain the glass. Bob and Cherise refill.
Cherise is next.
"You all know she was my lady, my main squeeze for years. Not exclusive, she wasn't like that, and I sure didn't mind.
The prime dicks and cunts she'd bring back to the flat, well it was all good.
Talk about generosity! That girl was happiest when you were fucking her latest crush.
She'd sit and watch or help or whatnot, suck the cock wet or hold the dildo so you could climb on board,
lick what she could reach, spit in your hole to slicken you up, guide the cock in.
When you came, she acted like it was a gift from her, straight from her heart!
