The Funeral

It was the 9th of september. South Park's biggest church was half-filled with mourning people just when the funeral was about to begin. The rainstorm roaming the town seemed to fit nicely into the general mood. Not many people were crying though. Actually it was only one person who stained one tissue after the other with tears.

"Why him? Why?" Linda Stotch sobbed, turning her head to her only son. She wore a fancy black dress and even her cheeks were partly black from the make-up-colored tears. A veil made of thin black lace hung limply from her small hat.

Butters looked at his mother worriedly. He did not quite know what to say, the shock was still sitting in his bones. Only a day had passed since his father had been found dead, now what was he to do? What the heck was he to say to a woman who just lost her beloved husband?

The boy smoothed out his shirt in an awkward manner, moving his hands just for the sake of moving at all. His fingers then turned to fidgeting with the black tie he wore. It was way too tight, he felt as if he was about to choke.

"Chris Stotch was a respected man, loving husband and caring father", the priest started his speech in a droning voice. "We all shall prey and hope that god takes him gently into his arms, giving him eternal rest in heaven."

A couple of flies buzzed over the open coffin.

Eric Cartman mimicked a wide yawn as the priest talked on. He just thought about how nice it would be to have a bag of cheesy poofs while he had to listen to the speech when Stan nudged him hard into the ribs.

"What?" Cartman replied in a low voice, scanning his friend. "You bored 'cause your jewish friend isn't here?"

Stan just shook his head and shot an ugly look at Eric. Then he turned his attention back to the front. He could not help but notice a very strong flowery scent that came from the coffin. It almost made him sick though he did not sit in the first row.

Kenny had a black scarf pulled over his mouth and nose, first because of the cold, now because of the stench. Those were the times when he really missed his orange parka. Scarves were fine, but they did not hide everything.

He did not talk at all, neither did he follow the speech. What was death anyway? Only another step in life, sometimes even a step you could take back again.

o

After some time, the speeches were over. Butters himself had managed to avoid speaking. It had been enough of an embarassment to watch his mother sobbing in front of his schoolmates. He really did not need to make it worse, having no rhetoric talent at all.

Shortly before the funeral was over, there was time for everyone to bid the corpse one last farewell. Butters and his mother were the first people to visit the open coffin. Each of them brought a white rose along.

Linda placed the rose right next to her husband's face. She did not seem to notice the wounds on the dead body, Butters on the other hand saw them clearly. He held back his retching when he saw a piece of the bowels that had fallen out of his father's stomach. The undertakers had tried to do their best but it seemed not to be good enough. The artificial smell of flowers and the stench of decay did not appear to be the best composition.

Butters quickly threw the rose into the coffin and walked on. He still could not cry. The sight of his father's severed corpse was way too much for him.

All that was left of Chris Stotch was the memory of a dead body that had been stabbed through and through.

And how would Butters celebrate his 17th birthday?