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March 2024

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Funeral Fuckers
Featured Article

Funeral Fuckers

Some people hit the singles bar or the gym in search of some action. For others, the mortuary is the real hookup hot spot.

Funeral homes are the last place anyone wants to end up, and in a lot of ways they are the end of the road. They are also perhaps the most unconventional spot a person could end up making a love connection. There’s just not a whole lot of opportunity for horniness in a place where there’s a corpse and a room full of mourners grieving the loss of a loved one. Sex, in any imaginable capacity, is arguably the last thing on anyone’s mind. Still, the stress of losing a friend or family member has been known to awaken the sleaziest of beasts. Rest assured, there’s a primal, poon-starved animal that lives deep inside of all of us and, whether we’re mourning or not, if there’s some pussy anywhere nearby for the taking, well, the lustful and living are going to wake the dead.  

Last year, for example, my 69-year-old uncle unexpectedly lost his wife, my mom’s sister, and by the time any of us got to the memorial service to pay our respects (we’re talking like two days later), he had already moved on—and with the funeral director’s intern, no less. The day that bereaved bastard met with the chapel’s planning counselors to slap down a deposit on a memorial service for his wife of 40-plus years, he left with a brochure on cremation and the phone number of a young trainee. I have yet to determine if she was after him for the money he doesn’t have, or if she had a legitimate clit-twitching lust for a cowboy hat-wearing, beer-bellied Shriner whose only discernible hobby was terrorizing an all-you-can-eat buffet on the weekends. Whatever her motivation, he refused to wait until my aunt’s body was cold to heat things up. To be fair, I suppose, the marriage vows explicitly stated, until death do us part. They just didn’t specify how long that poor fool was supposed to wait before parting a new girl’s legs.

Nonetheless, my entire family, even his progeny, was less than impressed by his lack of class. Yet, although my uncle is and always has been a tremendous douchebag, I felt like I understood his questionable decision to let his trash flag fly. Time on this planet is short, and ain’t none of us going to heaven, getting 32 virgins or any of that nonsense the religious charlatans preach. So, it is a matter of debate whether everyone should be prepared to jump on every opportunity, regardless of the supposed moral and ethical implications or expectations of others. My uncle, obviously charmed by a much younger, living woman, one ready to fuck him out of mourning if he cared to oblige, just went for it. It didn’t matter that his wife was in the basement stiffer than a board, he was just as stiff and prowling for coital condolence.

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