Sister’s Planning Her Own Funeral

Honey. let me tell you what’s happening here on the mountain. To tell you the truth, I think Sister has lost some of her marbles. She has been planning her funeral and it has me plum spooked. I said Sister. Sister I said, You are out of your cotton pickin skull. There’s plenty of kin folks to get you buried. Don’t be going on about such stuff as that. It ain’t natural to be planning your own funeral. Sister looked at me like I was the old devil. Sister will do that. She said, I know that but I know y’all will just mess up my funeral and I’m going to have my say while I’m alive and kicking.

I said, now Sister how can anybody mess up your funeral. A funeral is a funeral. They ain’t much you can do to mess one up. Sister said, Well, I know you and brother. Y’all would probably be standing at the alter singing one of them old songs that I don’t want to hear and no telling what kind of dress you would have me wearing. I wouldn’t be surprised if you didn’t bury me in one of my old flannel gowns or no telling what. What I’m gonna do is have the beautician from down in the flats come and fix my hair and make me up real pretty. And I’m gonna wear that white silky dress Guthrie got me for Christmas. I am gonna be looking good. 

And another thing. I want you to fix yourself up too. I don’t want you wearing that old ratty blue dress that you wear to everybody else’s funeral. I want you to get you one of them silky dresses like mine, only I want it to be yellow. Don’t you think yellow is a pretty color for a funeral? Sister was giving me the creeps. and besides yellow ain’t my favorite color. I said, Sister you ain’t having no funeral for a long time yet. Why that beautician might be dead before you are and that white silky dress will be plum wore out. You can’t be making no such plans now. You are healthy as a horse. And I’ll dad gummed wear what I want, and it wont be no yellow dress. You know yellow don’t look good on me.

Sister said, Sister you are the contrariest thing in the world. I guess I’ll have to tell Guthrie not to let you come to my funeral if you can’t abide by my last wishes. I said, Sister these ain’t your last wishes. You don’t know what your last wishes will be. We might all be dead and gone before you and you won’t have to worry about what we wear to no funeral. And child, that’s the pure d truth. Sister might be the last one left on this mountain.

One thing about it, I ain’t planning no funeral. I don’t care what kind of funeral I have and I sure to hell ain’t planning it myself. But I ain’t got time for no more of this foolishness. Me and sister has got to git on to town to pick up some chicken and hog feed. You just ought to hear them chickens squawking and them hogs squealing. We’re both about out of feed, and Guthrie left his truck at home today. He rode on to the woods with Roy. Me and Sister’s got to get the hauling done while we can. I just hope I don’t have to give her a knuckle sandwich before we get back.

More Sister Stories:

http://authspot.com/thoughts/christmas-dinner-at-sisters-house/

http://sportstales.com/hunting/christmas-eve-with-brother-and-family/

http://quazen.com/shopping/how-me-and-sister-got-christmas-presents-for-the-younguns/

http://authspot.com/thoughts/sisters-filling-up-the-cookie-jar/

http://gomestic.com/gardening/sister-and-her-little-pinch-of-snuff/