Do you have enough friends to carry you to the grave?

You know what makes me sick?  You know what makes me so mad I just wanna hire myself out as a funeral ventriloquist – so when the family is lowering their loved one into the ground, I can go… ‘Let me out!  Let me out!’?  Man – that would sure lighten the mood.

Yeah – I had kind of a weird thing happen last weekend.  You all remember Waydean Pirtle, right?  Well – she calls me out of the blue and asks if I can help her put her husband in his grave. Enough friends

Well – I thought a minute.  And I said, ‘How much money are we talking?  And do I have to make it look like an accident?’ She goes,  ‘No, you big idiot.  Bert passed away two nights ago… and he didn’t have no friends.  So I ain’t got no pall-bearers to tote him to the hole.’

So I told the widow Pirtle that it would be my honor to escort her husband to the hereafter.  But -honestly – Bert Pirtle was a lying, thieving crotchety old son of a pup nobody liked for good reason.  I mean – if he was that motorcycle insurance guy with dollar bills flying off his body – people would still go out of their way to avoid him.  Lord – he was a disagreeable man.  He was the kind of guy – the whole town will show up at his funeral – just to make sure he’s dead. Enough friends

So we were talking about this down at the Duck Inn.  And I says, ‘Boys – when I die – I got so many friends… it will be difficult to pick my pall-bearers.  Y’all might have to do some kind of lottery deal or something.  I mean, I got work friends, bar friends, bowling friends, Mudd Lake friends, neighbor friends. When you think about this – y’all might want to do one of those Olympic Torch relay deals – where you start a couple towns over – and take turns carrying me a couple hundred yards or so…’ enough friends

And Dub Meeker goes, ‘What about when I die, Earl?’    Well, I go, ‘Number one, Dub… when you pass to the hereafter – we’re all gonna bow our heads and pray.  That we don’t get a hernia toting your hefty behind.  And then we’re gonna ask your old lady to make sure and buy a plot near the road.  Or we might end up dragging Mr. Meeker to meet his maker.  Man – that was weird to write. Enough friends

Wake Up, America!!!  I don’t want to be the bird droppings on the windshield of your life, men… but think about it.  Do you have enough friends to carry you to the grave?   If not – it’s not too late to join a bowling team.  I’m Earl Pitts, American.  Like me on Facebook.  And Pitts Off.

Enough friends

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