Fast-Food Funeral

Today, one of my co-workers mentioned that my driving is crazy. He saw me driving on the freeway last week and thought I was "Speedracer." I disagreed. I remember the day he saw me driving. I was actually only going the speed limit passing people up. Everyone was driving slow because a highway patrol car was ahead. I fearlessly led the way by going exactly 65 MPH while all the other pansies went a safe 60 MPH. After I explained this to him he agreed to my view. He then mentioned to me that those types of driving days were over for him. He couldn't risk getting a ticket or an accident since he had a wife and kids. I then agreed with him. He shouldn't be driving crazy knowing he has a family that looks to him to provide.

I don't drive crazy. But if I died as a result of crazy driving, I can't help but think of how funny my funeral might be. I know I've made other humorous posts about my funeral, so let me reiterate this is not a cry for help or a death wish. I just think of ridiculous things for funerals because I think they are so stuffy and sad. I wish funerals were more about the celebration of life rather than the tragedy of one's end. This blog is for comical purposes only and in no way reflects preposterous notions of looking forward to my own funeral. Anywho, now that I've properly disclaimed this blog; on to my thoughts.

I think my funeral would be a small one consisting of close friends and family. But it would be funny if fast-food representatives showed up too. Nothing crazy or big like the CEO of Wendy's. But maybe a few regional presidents of various fast food chains or several local fast food chain managers would show up to pay their respects. I've pumped enough money into the industry that it would practically be disrespectful for them not to show. I can imagine the eulogies now:

"Johnny wasn't a tall man. He wasn't a rich man. He wasn't even a smart man. But he was a hungry man. He often treasured the delights and company of a Wendy's bacon cheeseburger and crispy chicken nuggets. The dollar menu served as his friend and confidant that he kept as close to his heart as the same plaque that clung to his vessel walls. Although we will no longer be receiving his monetary business, we will still think of him fondly and remember how he kept us all going despite the harshest economic recession since the Great Depression."

That one would be a real tearjerker. I would probably sob inconsolably in my grave if I heard that. After the fond farewells and wishes from local fast food chain representatives, my friends would take the podium. One might say something short and sweet like:

"Johnny, if you're listening, I hope there is a dollar menu in heaven. There is just no way heaven hasn't been affected by the recession. If there is no dollar menu, may the wits and tasteless dick and poop jokes from deceased celebrities keep you company. Rest in peace."

-Or-

(After a long heart-felt speech, someone would ideally conclude with:) "I hope there is chicken nuggets where you're going." 

This person would say this while looking thoughtfully and stoically towards the sky. Maybe a small tear would be visible then. Their brows would be furrowed with both sorrow and hope that perhaps there is an all-you-can-eat fast food bar where I'm going. Then they would drop a dollar over my casket and walk away sullenly. This would be followed by everyone else in line who would drop a dollar or two on my grave so I could take their money to the afterlife for fast food. The ancient Egyptians did it. $32.43 probably won't be enough to get me through eternity, but it's a start. I only assume it would be this approximate amount since most of the people I know are cheap. I'm sure most of it will be in change too, but someone might throw a 20 dollar bill  during the impulsive heat of their emotions.

Anyway, that's all I can write. For some reason, I found this concept hilarious in my head. I doubt many will find this as humorous. But meh. 

Enjoy.