*Death at a Funeral

Intro: I am actually surprised I got something written this week. This is a little dark but I hope that you find it thought provoking.

"I'm going to a funeral." Jacob said.

He took a bite of his hamburger and washed it down with his chocolate milk. His friends around the table looked away and offered their sympathies. It was always the same, Jacob noticed, whether he was in elementary, high school, college, or at work. Funerals were treated as a disease. He finished of the burger with three more bites and crumpled the wrapper with the bag, tossing it into the garbage as he walked out of the break room.

Jacob liked funerals, it wasn't that he enjoyed the misery of others, no he went to see the bodies. The bodies looked serene, it didn't matter how they died, if the casket was open. All of the bodies wore the same expressions. One of peace. It was the funerals with the closed casket he hated. There was no peace in those funerals.

His own life contained everything, but peace and happiness. It was evident by the number of funerals he attended. The first one had been when he was seven, his older brother: accidental medication overdose. Then a year and a half later it had been two of the three sill living grandparents: complications from old age. At ten, his best friend: hit by a car. Twelve saw both his younger sister, electrocution, and his father, accident at work. His mother remarried when he was fourteen, a man with three children of his own, all older than Jacob. One died six months later, drowned in river. One died the day of Jacob's high school graduation, suicide. And when he was twenty, the third one choked at dinner.

Now, at twenty-seven, Jacob was attending his mother's funeral. It was listed as a home accident, falling down the stairs, but he knew the truth. His step-father was burying his second wife and Jacob knew the man was already sleeping with a potential number three.

He left work early and headed home, his gray suit and black shirt hung in his closet, all ready. It sagged on the hanger and looked even worse on him. He'd lost weight since purchasing it a month earlier. The left side of his coat hung down further than the right side.

The funeral home smelled of roses. He shook the funeral director's hand.

"You are Jacob, the deceased's son?"

"Yes. Thank you for your help with this."

"Will her husband be coming?"

Jacob shrugged and moved over the casket. Peace was eminent on her face, though it hadn't been in life. He brushed a finger across her cheek and let out a small plea of forgiveness. He could smell the man almost before he walked into the room. When the funeral director went to talk to him, the man just pushed past him, stumbling up to the casket. Jacob stood to the side his hands balled in fists.

"She looks so peaceful," he reached out, his greasy stained hands moving towards her.

"Don't touch her." Jacob had to keep himself from snarling. "Medications, old age, car accident, electrocution, machining accident, drowned, suicide, asphyxiation, beating."

"What?"

"Gun shot." He pulled the gun from the inside of his of his coat mentally counting the bullets in the gun as well as his pockets. "Closed casket."

###

The gavel sounded like the final gunshot as Jacob looked up at the judge. He stood and nodded his thanks already turning to the door. His lawyer stood at his shoulder.

"Don't worry, I'll appeal the ruling. We'll reduce it from premeditated homicide—"

"Don't bother," Jacob said smiling already thinking of the casket waiting for him. "Lethal injection is just fine."