I have decided how I want my funeral handled. I want a nice going away ceremony at Chuck E Cheese. I was there the other night for a school party and I decided it would be perfect. Chuck E himself could invite everyone to come down to the Chuck E Cheese TV studio to say a few words and everyone would wander up there with a confused look. Just seeing how everyone would handle the what to wear question would be priceless. “Do I wear a suit? I mean, it’s Chuck E Cheese. But on the other hand, it’s a funeral. There are no rules that cover this!”
There would be a five-year-old just a few tables over having a birthday party. There would also be a lot of crying but that wouldn’t be from the funeral-goers; it would just be the usual kids totally overdosed on sugar and adrenaline that give Chuck E Cheese its special charm.
Yep, that’s what I want. A bunch of really confused people eating pizza and cinnamon sticks while nearby kids go crazy. I want to hear, “Mommy, mommy, can I have some tokens?”
“No, this is a funeral. Sit down and be quiet.”
“But mommy, we’re at Chuck E Cheese and all the other kids are playing.”
“Oh all right, here’s five dollars. Just make sure you don’t bother the other mourners.”
Jeff’s funeral. A place where a kid can be a kid. It’s perfect. And for one short period of time, I will be able to look up from my little corner of hell, see everybody at Chuck E Cheese and think “I am soooo glad that I am not there …”





