It Was Me Uncle Jim's Funeral, and I Nearly Died Laughing

Me poor uncle Jim passed away the udder day, and I hopes he’s resting in peace up dere in heaven. But I knows dat, just sure as there’s shit in cat, as me ol’ mudder used to say, I’ll be going to hell in a handbasket. And dat’s anudder ting she used to say.

You see, while Uncle Jim was laying dere in the casket, dead as a doornail, getting blessed by the priest and stuff, I was rolling around the pew, clutching me gut, trying not to die from laughing.

I’m not even sure how it started, and it’s not like I didn’t respect the man. I loved him. Jim was me favorite uncle, and he had a wicked sense of humour.

Yeah, I was just sitting dere at first, all somber and respectful, listening to the eulogy, den I started tinking about me younger days and Uncle Jim. He’s the one dat taught me how to drive. Mudder and Fadder were grateful for dat, cuz they didn’t have to do it. He taught me how to drink too. Mudder wasn’t quite so pleased about dat one. Especially not since, every time I had a few, I’d come home, pick her up, swing her around and pinch her on the arse. Uncle Jim taught me dat too.

Speaking of Mudder’s arse, dat’s what got me started with da giggling. Now, git yer minds outta da gutter, it’s not like dat – well not really. It’s about Uncle Jim and me little brudder Tommy. Tommy’s about five years younger than me, and he was a real mamma’s boy as a child. He literally used to chase her around the kitchen, clinging on to her apron strings while she was trying to git supper.

Every time Uncle Jim came to visit, which was nearly every day, since he lived next door, he’d be telling little Tommy to give Mudder some space. “Stop hanging off your mudder’s tit,” he’d say. “You’re too old for dat.” Or, “stop crawling up your mudder’s arse. You’ll grow up to be a sissy.”

Dere was dis one day where Uncle Jim said the part about crawling up Mudder’s arse and being a sissy, and little Tommy blurts out “Dat’s a lie! I saw Dad crawl up Mudder’s arse, and he’s no sissy."

Well. Lord tunderin’ Jaysus. Let me tell you, all hell broke loose. Fadder was so shocked he almost fell into his pea soup, which really woulda sucked cuz Fadder loved his pea soup.

Uncle Jim was laughing so hard I tought he was gonna choke. Mudder started screeching and ran to the cupboard to grab the holy water to chase the devil out of us all, and little Tommy took off like a bat out of hell, cuz he was convinced the holy water would burn the skin right off his bones.

So, dere I was, sitting in church at me uncle’s funeral, tinking of Mudder chasing him around the kitchen with da holy water, while Uncle Jim was fending her off with a dish towel and trying not to die from laughing. “Give it up, ya silly old crow, he’d say.” And the more I tought about it, the more I giggled.

The missus, who was sitting next to me, elbowed me in the ribs, so I tried to calm meself and stop giggling. But when she reminded me how disgusted me mudder would be if she was here, I got a vision dat Mudder would probably try to drown me in the holy water stoup on the way out, and I burst out laughing. I couldn’t hold it in anymore.

I didn’t realize how loud I was until I looked around and noticed dat everyting had gone silent, and the people in the pews in front was all staring at me.

I looked up at the altar, where the priest was standing, and noticed him also staring at me, with a look dat made me wonder if he was planning an exorcism on me after he was done with Uncle Jim’s funeral.

Next ting I knows, he starts walking towards me swinging the incense container, and it was right den dat I understood how little Tommy felt that day with the holy water. Don’t ask how a grown man can be terrified of a priest, cuz I can’t give ya any sensible explanation. Just know that, in dat moment, I knew I was in trouble, and I was about to shit meself.

So I starts apologizing right away, and tries telling the priest dat I ain’t trying to be disrespectful, I just had some memories of Jim, and some of the funny stuff he said and did. The priest starts to smile and asks me if dere’s anyting I’d like to share, and as I’m trying to tink of something appropriate, the church doors swing open, in flies dis ol’ crow, and lands on the back of the pew right in front of me. And I swear it had the voice of me mudder.

“Quote dat ol’ bastard nevermore,” the crow squawks. “Quote dat bastard nevermore.” I must admit, it was kinda shocking, but I assumed it was Mudder’s way of letting me know dat nothing Jim said was appropriate to tell a priest. So I shut up.

Den the ol’ crow turns to the priest and says “G’won, Fadder. Git up dere and finish blessing this old coot’s soul. I’ll take care of him after dat.”

So, the poor priest, who by now has turned green, waddles back up to the altar, and after chugging the entire contents of the wine goblet and pouring anudder, finishes off the service.

I was grateful when I heard the choir sing Amazing Grace at the end of it, cuz I coulda swore it woulda been Highway to Hell.

Anyways, rest in peace, Uncle Jim. And keep your grubby paws off me Mudder’s arse.