h a l f b a k e r y
No, not that kind of baked.
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The mourners assemble, some carrying wreaths, clad in muted
and sombre tones. Voices are low, out of respect for the occaision.
the background, classical music plays. All await the arrival of the
hearse, conveying the remains of the departed loved one.
All heads turn ... yes,
here it comes. But .... why is it painted in garish
colours ? Why does it have wheels of different sizes, one with a flat
and one oval ? Why does it resemble a modified fire engine ? Why is
weaving across the road ? The answer to the last question is soon
apparent; three clowns are fighting for control of the steering wheel.
Unfortunately, the one in posession of the driving seat cannot see,
partly because there is another clown standing on the front fender,
blocking his view, shouting, and waving a huge wreath of fake
labelled HAPY BURTDAE, and partly because he has just had a
of custard tipped over him, obscuring his vision.
He resorts to the windscreen washer, but all that does is squirt
water in the face of the fender-rider and the third clown who is
standing on the drivers-side footboard, reaching through the
and attempting to gain admission, while fighting off the fourth clown
the passenger seat who has both hands on and one leg through the
steering wheel; his other two legs (yes, you have counted correctly)
are sticking out of the passenger
window, being held by a fifth clown, who is travelling alongside the
vehicle on rollerskates and shouting for help.
It seems, however, that the numerous other clowns hanging on to
vehicle and forming a keystone-cops tail at the rear, are not
in rendering any assistance, being occupied with water jets, custard
pies, hooters, sirens, air horns, flashing lights, and juggling.
Eventually the vehicle lurches to a stop after demolishing a fruit cart,
sheet of prop glass, a rail of clothes and a huge pile of empty
Amid much noise and clamor, the clowns disembark. Immediately,
fights break out, but some of them manage to accidentally eject the
coffin onto the road. At least, it might be the coffin - it's shaped and
painted like an enormous hot dog in a bun.
But at least it has eight brass handles. Unfortunately these are
somewhat irregularly placed, five down one side and three on the
other, at varying heights.
Eventually somed sort of order is restored and the pallbearers line
four on each side. This results in further scuffles and a game of
Musical Handles. The coffin is hoisted; but due to the great disparity
heights of the clowns - one of whom is a dwarf, grasping one of the
highest handles - it is neither straight nor level, and the unfortunate
dwarf's feet are a good half a metre off the ground.
Thus the cortege progresses into the building, knocking over vases,
treading in flowebeds, yelling, throwing jelly and custard pies,
accompanied by honking car horns, shouting, air horns, and a dwarf
complaining loudly about discrimination.
The actual ceremony is left to the imagination of the reader.
Robot Chicken: Clown Funeral
[nick_n_uit, Jun 17 2015]
||I heard that the inventor of the USB port died last
week. After they'd lowered the casket into the
ground, they took it back out and turned it around.
||[-] tsk <discworld reference>
||[+] In some Asian funerals, actresses are paid to wail. You may have to pay someone to laugh, but either way, it's not going to do a great deal for the reputation of clowns.
||Well, I'm all for it, but unfortunately I've already committed
my cadaver to deathwang. That is, if I can get a good rate
on renting a trebuche.
||Ideally, the hearse will contain a seemingly impossible number of coffins, perhaps flat packed and sprung so that when one is removed, another pops into place, to the consternation of the last clown, who hefts each solo and staggering to the graveside (akin to Douglas Henshall in Orphans - hang on, wait, maybe it was Gary Lewis).
||Several LOLs in this. One of your best 8th. [+]
||Clowns behaving badly. It's a sacrilege. +
||I'll vote for this, as long as can have clergy and
undertakers take their turn in the big top.
||A conservatively dressed matron strides out and starts taking the clowns to task for being disrespectful. Shaking her finger, waggling her head. The clowns sheepishly settle down and line up, nodding ashamedly. Some cry.
|| Then one of them motions towards the casket suggesting he hears something inside. He beckons the matron over. The clowns look at each other uncertainly. The conservative person walks up to the casket but on laying a hand on it, the front springs open to release springy snakes and a blast of seltzer. Pandemonium resumes.
||We had in mind the appearance at an opportune moment of the White
Faced Clown, the one that isn't funny, the one everyone is scared of ...
||+ I'd like a spring-loaded casket lid, so I can do a jack-in-the-
box to scare everyone!
||Can we have ambient dispensers of laughing-gas for the funeral attendees as well? Or itching powder administered down their backs while they're not looking?
||Of course. And joy buzzers all round.
||// We need more ... mime funerals //
||There can never, ever be enough of those.