Riding Shotgun To Funeral

comic about riding shotgun to funeral

Riding Shotgun To Funeral

I'm sorry, but stiffs should be seen and not heard. That's my opinion, anyway. Maybe it's because I work in a morgue, or maybe it's just because I'm sort of a quiet guy myself, but I just don't like a lot of unnecessary chatter going on. If you've got something important or relevant to say, then fine. If not, then just zip it. When a client arrives in a body bag (yes, we call them clients), the first thing we do, of course, is unzip them. It hasn't happened yet, but if one of them started yakking right out of the bag, I'd find another line of work. It's not because it would freak me out. It would take a lot more than that to give me the creeps. No, it's because I'd have to think of something to say back to them. And I'm often at a loss for words, even when the person I'm talking to is warm. It's funny, because I can talk to some body perfectly fine when I know they're not going to say anything back. I do it all the time, in fact. It actually helps to pass the time. Sometimes I even sing to them. I hope that doesn't sound too weird. It's usually nothing very romantic. Mostly stuff like On The Sunny Side Of The Street or Happy Days Are Here Again. I try to keep it upbeat. And I think they appreciate it. At least I haven't got any complaints yet. Oh, except for one guy who let out a gasp after I finished up with my rendition of Oh, What A Beautiful Mornin'. But, thankfully, it turned out to be his last. Well, I've got to get back to work. And, please, if we ever happen to meet in a professional capacity, do me a favor. Have a little respect for the living, and put a sock in it.