I love my vocation. There is no way of predicting what’ll happen next at a piping gig. Today was another one of those.

A coupla weeks back I wrote of the loud mouthed numpty at the graveside. Today was another event, but no bubba.

Today after the graveside portion of the funeral, I returned to the funeral home facility to receive my compensation.

While waiting for the funeral director to bring me the envelope, one of the ‘mourners’ approached me in order to pose The Question. Not only an inappropriate location, but even more so was asking this at a funeral service.

The enquirer was a lovely young female, perhaps 24 yrs of age - the quintessential healthy American girl-next-door. I tried to quietly squash this discussion due to the somber occasion & location, but she was gently persistent.

The funerary trade is conservative in all matters, and even though funeral directors have a somewhat twisted sense of humor, I doubt they’d approve of this in an open corridor of their business. Ditto for me – I want to maintain a reputation beyond reproach so they’ll contact me in the future.

I raised my voice slightly and reminded her of the place & circumstances and thought the matter concluded. As I began to walk away, the female offered to show me ‘hers’, if I’d show her ‘mine’. I turned around, a bit agitated, and there she was, bent over with her skirt hiked up to reveal a black thong and a colorful floral-themed tramp stamp.

I asked her to put it away before someone saw this and misinterpreted what was going on. She did so, and asked yet again.

I walked away hoping the matter closed. Fortunately, one of the female funeral directors appeared and I latched onto her and made my way out. Didn’t hear another word from young 'lady'.

Slainte yall,
steve