Funeral or Farce?

Gypsy-Lee was busting to go to the toilet. She always was. That’s what you got when you had a weak bladder. She peered through the window of the toilets at the Whispering Oaks funeral home and caught a sight she didn’t expect to see. A young man was in nothing but his white jocks! She took a step back. What was going on? There was another young man with him as well. He was blond unlike the first man who had dark, layered locks with a long fringe.

    The blond man opened the door and told her they were changing into their funeral clothes. Gypsy-Lee nodded and walked back to where her older friend Gael sat in her car. She would have to hold on a little while longer.

    She was grateful to Gael for driving her to her grandmother’s funeral for she wasn’t able to drive herself due to her vision impairment. It made life difficult for this outgoing twenty-one year old.

    Her grandmother Daphne Delphine Smythe died of old age at the age of ninety-two. The same age as Queen Elizabeth II whom her grandmother adored. Gypsy-Lee and Gael spoke for a bit before Gypsy-Lee decided to go back to the toilets and try her luck again.

    This time, the dark haired emo boy was sitting in the doorway of a black jeep lacing his shoes. He explained to her he’d come all the way from Nar Nar Goon and had to change at the venue. But now the toilets were free. Gypsy-Lee smiled. She’d have to make it through a one-hour service!

    The eulogy was given by her great uncle Orson who at the last family reunion gave a spectacular performance demonstrating his “skill” as a preacher through a sermon in which he raged hellfire and brimstone through quivering jowls. He was a red-faced evangelist who saw it as his mission to convert everyone to Christ. Now, he was delivering a ten-minute sermon in which he spoke about the “end of times” and how the “mark of the beast” was upon them all!

    The minister who was conducting the service nibbled her nails and drummed her fingers on the chair arm. At one stage it looked as though she was going to get up and stop him mid sentence but she remained seated. That was until Uncle Orson asked if he could continue on and the minister jumped up and signalled that he had “two minutes” left.

    Afterwards, Gypsy-Lee’s first cousin Josiah got up to speak and he delivered a eulogy about their grandmother’s ANZAC biscuits that Gypsy-Lee secretly disliked but tried to pass off as her own at work once but couldn’t fool the Greek cleaner who wondered why she wasn’t married if she could cook so well?

    A happy clapping minister who wore a tie-dyed T-shirt with “Jesus Saves” read Bible readings. He turned the readings into an account of Dahlia’s life and how her Bible was well-read including notes and other things. It wasn’t just a book. He was a bit of a Jesus freak in which he combined a hippy communal way of life with zealous evangelism.

   Then it was time for the minister to give her address. She was an overweight, middle-aged woman with bad skin and long, greying hair. All throughout her address she kept cracking religious jokes that no one laughed at.

    Prayers were read including the Lord’s Prayer before the service ended and everyone retreated to the reception area for afternoon tea.

    After Gypsy-Lee nibbled on a sandwich she wandered outside and got some well-needed rays. The leaves of the bushes rustled in the wind as the sun shone down onto her ashen face. The glass doors and windows of the reception room concealed the noise of the people chattering inside.

    Gypsy-Lee turned and was about the head back inside when she heard something behind the bushes. She stopped and cocked her head to one side. It sounded like a child doing a tap dance on the concrete pavement. Gypsy-Lee walked over and peered behind the bushes. Her bottom lip practically dropped to the ground as she saw the same emo youth whom she’d seen in the toilets having a fit on the ground! His body shook and his arms and legs were shaking uncontrollably. She stood by and watched until it was over before she knelt down and moved his long fringe away from his face. She sat down and placed his head in her lap before she stroked his caramel cheeks with her fingertips. Then she bent down and kissed him fully on the mouth. His eyes fluttered open. They were dark eyes full of confusion. In stark contrast to her own green orbs.

    ‘What happened?’ he asked.

    ‘You had a fit,’ she explained. ‘Are you epileptic?’

    ‘Yeah. Just don’t tell my dad because it will mean another visit to the doctor and I’m through with doctors!’

     Gypsy-Lee caressed his cheek lovingly. ‘Don’t worry Superman, your secret is safe with me!’

    ‘I’m Zach by the way.’

    ‘Gypsy-Lee.’

    She continued to stroke his face and hair as he gradually came to. He smiled as he gazed up into her eyes. Gypsy-Lee looked down at him and noticed his suit was blue and a little bit too tight with the pants a few inches too high. She wondered when he would have bought it. The sun beat down on her back. She was wearing a black dress and fascinator. She shielded his face from the sun with her hand.

    ‘Thank you,’ he said.

    ‘No problem.’

    ‘I guess we’d better get back inside soon.’

    ‘Yeah. Want me to help you up?’

    ‘Nah. I’m right.’

    As if to prove himself and his quick recovery he sat up, looked at her and grinned. ‘All good,’ he said.

    He stood up and straightened his clothes and smoothed his hair. His long fringe hung over his handsome face and his cheeks were rosy again. Gypsy-Lee looked up at him. At five foot two, she was a foot shorter than him. Even her high heels did little to boost her height.

     She took him by the arm and led him into the reception area where the crowd had thinned somewhat as people were making tracks to the lawn cemetery.

    ‘Ah! Gypsy-Lee!’ a man greeted her. ‘I don’t know if you remember me but I’m your cousin Leopold Miller. I see you have met my eldest boy Zach.’

    Gypsy-Lee looked at him dumbstruck. She did remember her cousin Leopold who had a primal therapy business in which his patients were encouraged to scream abusively about their parents and agonizingly about their own suffering in infancy. Her heart sank as she realised this tall and handsome young Romeo, this young god who looked like a Calvin Klein model in the toilets only on hour ago was the same Zach Miller she used to see running around at the family reunion ten years ago. She closed her eyes as she remembered the snotty nosed brat. But, oh – how he had evolved!

    ‘Well, we don’t get fed like this at home,’ Leopold said as he took a bite of cake and walked off to talk to another relative.

    Gypsy-Lee turned to Zach, her mouth agape.

    ‘Hello cousin,’ he said.

    She smiled weakly as he held out his hand. She shook it and said “hello” back. She should have known he was too good to be true! In the words of Milhouse on The Simpsons, “It started out as Romeo and Juliet but it ended in tragedy.” This hot guy was in fact her third cousin! Well, it wasn’t all bad. After all Queen Elizabeth II married her third cousin Prince Phillip. But they weren’t royalty. They were ordinary human beings and it just wasn’t the done thing.

    Leopold came back to collect his son to take to the burial. He pointed to a guest who was wearing a very short black mini dress and said, ‘If that dress was any shorter, she’d have two more cheeks to powder!’

    Zach lowered his gaze to the floor and shuffled his feet around while Gypsy-Lee faked a cough.

    ‘Well, let’s go Zach,’ Leopold said as he led his gorgeous son away.

    Gypsy-Lee watched them as they walked away safe in the knowledge she would keep two things secret that day.