Stan, the Funeral Man

I was at my Father’s funeral. He had died with a drink in his hand, of course. The very thing that killed him had been the thing he loved most. Unless you were to say he had died by hitting his head off the steps up to the house, but he didn’t love the steps, and he only fell because he was drunk. It sounded better to say the drink he loved so much killed him, as I’d said in my funeral speech, the black eye he had given me still prominent and… well black. After my speech, my mother had burst out crying. Well I imagined she did, because a) she had been dead for years, and b) I imagined she would have felt great shame if she were sat listening to the speech I had made.

And then suddenly I was at the funeral bar, ironic considering everything. Perhaps I, too, would fall drunk and smack my skull off a step.

“Two whiskey’s please.” The man next to me told the barwoman before turning to me. “You look like you could do with a whisky.”

I was, in truth, a timid man. “Um… thank you.”

“What’s your name, kid?” He lit a cigarette that came from apparently nowhere, with a black, jet lighter engraved with a white rose.

“Adam…” I reply, and he sighs. “Sorry?”

“Don’t apologise, Addy, I just knew an Adam once. Wasn’t great to his wife if I do say so myself.” He took a long drag of his cigarette, seemingly lost for a moment in some grim memory. “I’m Stan, lovely to meet you, so your Dad, right?”

“Um… yes. He died. But I wasn’t overly fond of him.”

“Aw that’s a shame, kiddo, why not?” He passes me a cigarette, and I don’t feel like I can decline it, so I just nod. “He beat me a lot. Used to beat my Mom.”

“He’ll go straight to hell then. No doubt about that.” Stan lights my cigarette, and I see the other side of his lighter bore a golden cross.

“You believe in God?” I ask him, compelled to, for some reason, to know.

“I do believe in God, but he doesn’t scare me. Doesn’t do a lot.”

“Well what are you scared of, if not God? Surely, he’s the one thing you should fear considering he’s… well God.”

“Bold of you to assume God is a male.” He chuckles, taking another drag. The whiskeys arrive, and he puts them on his tab. “Drink up, kiddo. It’s not easy losing a parent, trust me.”

I drain the glass, cough a little, and find Stan had drained his with no such fuss.

“Some advice.” Stan says, placing a hand on my shoulder and looking me right in the eyes. “Forget your Father existed. You are your own man, and this timid nature of yours that has grown as a result of being quashed by your dear old Dad is going to do nothing but hold you back. Trust me, we don’t need our fathers, or anyone, holding us back in this life. Because you only have a limited time on Earth and, frankly, it’s hard. I got charged four pounds for the bus earlier. Single trip, four pounds. Can you believe it?! Just live your life, Addy, and let go of anything that stops you from achieving because you can be as smart as you want, but if you don’t work hard too then you will get nowhere.”

“Okay?” I’m stunned, I must admit. His grip had only grown stronger over his speech, and his eyes bore into my soul more with every second. I felt like a cloak I had never known was there had been torn off my head, and had finally been revealed to the world.

“Anyway, Adam, Addy, kiddo, be a lamb and have a good life.” He stands to leave, but pauses. “You asked what I’m scared of?”

“Yes, sir. I did.” It seemed right to call him sir, suddenly.

“I’m scared of you. The whole of humanity scares me. Ignorant, capable of so much evil and destruction. Your phallic weapons capable of annihilating millions at a time. Even you, timid, pale, could flip your switch one day and kill a bunch of people with a knife or a rock. You are a stain on what was once a beautiful planet, and it scares me how quickly you were able to poison it. I don’t know why my Dad condemned me in favour for you monsters, but he did, and now I’m here. And not with him.”

Stan turned on his heel, leaving me all on my own with a pack of cigarettes, the lighter emblazoned with the gold cross and the white rose, and the image of his eyes, fiery globes filled with miraculous, tremendous and fascinating power immortalised in my brain.

"Interesting." I say outloud. "Barkeep, can I get four more on Stan's tab? Thank you."