The Funeral
I was never good at casket parties. I guess few people are. I'm the type of guy that takes one look at the dearly departed, flashbacks to the glory days, sheds his tears, and commences in getting recklessly, pass-out, near death trashed. When it came time for me and the dear doctor to part ways... I wasn't lucky enough to get the exact process in the clear-cut order I had been used to.
"We've come here today to mourn the passing of a good man." Had the priest started in with this malarky already? How long had I been passed out? Goddamit how much more morphine could I take and still be able to coherrently perform my painstaking eulogy and, how much more white lightning (moonshine) is left in the flask? I shook the silver plated booze stash around in my pocket realizing a healthy wallop still rested within. I tried carefully to avoid grazing my hand across the inscription on the front of the flask but, in my beastly state realized it was a fool's errand. Fingertips danced across the prescription symbol etching placed by the doctor for my 21st birthday.
"Bottoms up." I whipped the silver bullet out of my pocket and slammed most of it quickly before anyone noticed. Unfortunately my stealth was for naught when the flask came crashing out of my hands and onto the cold carpeted floor. The priest stopped mid-sentence to glare in my direction long enough for the others to notice, then quickly returned to what could only be my introduction:
"Now, for a man whose fine words can do the doctor a greater justice than any word of gospel, Dr. D's closest companion and partner, Professor T..."
SNNIIIIIIIIIIFFF
A burning rushed from my nose to my lungs and finally to every extremity, curbing the great pain of such a great loss. It was just like meeting an old friend all over again. I knew I had heard my name called to speak and I was 60% sure that it had actually happened outside my mind. I stood up despite the urge to huff back another line, deciding that whatever I needed to say wasn't going to get any easier later on. So I stumbled up to the podium in front of the 17 or so miscellaneous witnesses, knocking down a horseshoe-shaped funeral bouquet in my wake. I lurched toward the microphone to spew my insanity onto the rest of the mourners. It went a little something like this...
"Here goes something, err nothing. Funny how you can switch those two lines isn't it Padre?" the priest didn't answer me as I scrambled to get my gin-soaked notes. "Well anywhoooo, back to the eulogizing. It's no question as to why we're all here today. We came, clad in black, to say goodbye to a man who was persistently on his way out. We know why we feel the way we do today. The doctor obviously had an effect on each of us in some substantial way, leading to the grief that overwhelms... most of us. The real questions come after all of this when no one's around to answer. These are the questions I set on all of you today: Why is HE here today? Why did HE feel the way he did in order to do such a thing to himself? Some of you fine people surely know, as well as I, the reasons behind these rhymes and if you do, there's no need to sugar coat this bullshit. The doc was much a sinner and nay a saint, a seeker of chaos when his true need was the quaint... Forgive my lyrical tone, let's get down to the bare bones of this shall we??? The doctor was a killer, a junkie, and a father. He was a lover, a leader, and the slyest fox in the hole. He was the kind of guy that would kiss the back of your hand after he just snorted a rail off of it. He was a lonely ruthless bastard when it came to what was HIS and what was YOURS, and I for one, hated the bastard for all of the lying, thieving, conniving, and terrifying things he'd pulled on me in the midst of our legendary acid blazes that would go straight on till morning. I'll miss him just like I missed coke..." I tapped out a neat line out of my vial right onto my notes resting on the podium. SNNIIIIIIIIIIFFF. "They were the best friends I never had."
"We've come here today to mourn the passing of a good man." Had the priest started in with this malarky already? How long had I been passed out? Goddamit how much more morphine could I take and still be able to coherrently perform my painstaking eulogy and, how much more white lightning (moonshine) is left in the flask? I shook the silver plated booze stash around in my pocket realizing a healthy wallop still rested within. I tried carefully to avoid grazing my hand across the inscription on the front of the flask but, in my beastly state realized it was a fool's errand. Fingertips danced across the prescription symbol etching placed by the doctor for my 21st birthday.
"Bottoms up." I whipped the silver bullet out of my pocket and slammed most of it quickly before anyone noticed. Unfortunately my stealth was for naught when the flask came crashing out of my hands and onto the cold carpeted floor. The priest stopped mid-sentence to glare in my direction long enough for the others to notice, then quickly returned to what could only be my introduction:
"Now, for a man whose fine words can do the doctor a greater justice than any word of gospel, Dr. D's closest companion and partner, Professor T..."
SNNIIIIIIIIIIFFF
A burning rushed from my nose to my lungs and finally to every extremity, curbing the great pain of such a great loss. It was just like meeting an old friend all over again. I knew I had heard my name called to speak and I was 60% sure that it had actually happened outside my mind. I stood up despite the urge to huff back another line, deciding that whatever I needed to say wasn't going to get any easier later on. So I stumbled up to the podium in front of the 17 or so miscellaneous witnesses, knocking down a horseshoe-shaped funeral bouquet in my wake. I lurched toward the microphone to spew my insanity onto the rest of the mourners. It went a little something like this...
"Here goes something, err nothing. Funny how you can switch those two lines isn't it Padre?" the priest didn't answer me as I scrambled to get my gin-soaked notes. "Well anywhoooo, back to the eulogizing. It's no question as to why we're all here today. We came, clad in black, to say goodbye to a man who was persistently on his way out. We know why we feel the way we do today. The doctor obviously had an effect on each of us in some substantial way, leading to the grief that overwhelms... most of us. The real questions come after all of this when no one's around to answer. These are the questions I set on all of you today: Why is HE here today? Why did HE feel the way he did in order to do such a thing to himself? Some of you fine people surely know, as well as I, the reasons behind these rhymes and if you do, there's no need to sugar coat this bullshit. The doc was much a sinner and nay a saint, a seeker of chaos when his true need was the quaint... Forgive my lyrical tone, let's get down to the bare bones of this shall we??? The doctor was a killer, a junkie, and a father. He was a lover, a leader, and the slyest fox in the hole. He was the kind of guy that would kiss the back of your hand after he just snorted a rail off of it. He was a lonely ruthless bastard when it came to what was HIS and what was YOURS, and I for one, hated the bastard for all of the lying, thieving, conniving, and terrifying things he'd pulled on me in the midst of our legendary acid blazes that would go straight on till morning. I'll miss him just like I missed coke..." I tapped out a neat line out of my vial right onto my notes resting on the podium. SNNIIIIIIIIIIFFF. "They were the best friends I never had."