We had a funny neighbor when I grew up. He was an older gentleman, with a kind heart and a very wicked sense of humor. He loved to play pranks on everybody and making other’s laugh was his main goal in life.
His name was Guiseppe and he lived on a farm at the end of the village, with his wife and kids. We all loved him, but were always careful around him. Nobody wanted to play the main character in his next prank. He had always candy for us and one couldn’t pass him, without hearing his newest joke.
He was sick for a while and then he passed away. The funeral was held around lunch time and the whole village was there to pay the final respect. We comforted his wife and family the best we could and went back home afterwards, because life goes on…no matter what.
Two days later, when I was back in boarding school the nun came in the class room and asked me to follow her. There was a call for me, what was very unusual and it scared me a little bit.
It was my Grandmother and she told me that I had to come back home, for Guiseppe’s funeral. “Grandma….his funeral was the other day. What are you talking about?”
“They buried the wrong guy, you need to come back home”, she said and I didn’t argue with her. I knew she wouldn’t make jokes like that, so I signed myself out and traveled back home.
That evening I heard the full story. Somehow the funeral home down in the city must have mixed up the dead bodies and they buried the wrong fellow. That day when we thought we said Good-bye to our neighbor, we said Good-bye to a stranger, who was laying now in the wrong grave.
I didn’t now what to think about that. I had never heard about anything like that. “The poor family” was all my Grandma had to say and I felt the same way. I could just imagine what they went through.
Funeral #2 took place the very next day and it was so odd. Everybody was back, wearing the same clothes, and we paid our respect one more time. The same things were said, the family was comforted again and we all went back home, just like the first time.
We were sitting in the kitchen, when my Grandma said “If the phone rings, don’t answer it. I am not going to the darn funeral a third time”.
I lost it, I laughed hard. Guiseppe, the village clown had played his last prank on all of us. Nobody dared laughing or thought it was comical when it happened, but we all laughed about it for months afterwards.
Tell us about a situation that was not funny at all while it was happening, but that you now laugh about whenever you remember it.