Saved by the Bell… Almost!!!

 

Dear Readers,

I never thought I’d be the star of my own funeral. Yet, here I was lying still, surrounded by darkness, and listening to my entire family sob over my supposed demise. wanted to meet my mummy and daddy since they were gone. my ticket was eminent.

The ceremony had all the usual ingredients: wailing relatives, overly dramatic speeches, and my Friend Amit trying to cry way too hard to squeeze out a tear while simultaneously checking his watch. he had an online meeting. The priest Fr. Malcolm droned on about my "well-lived life" (news to me), and someone who I couldn't recognize shrieked like a dying banshee, throwing herself onto my casket as if she were auditioning for a soap opera, only missing were the crying violins, hahahaha.

The grand procession led to the cemetery, where they lowered me into my final resting place. Dirt rained down, sealing my fate while my so-called loved ones took turns saying heartfelt goodbyes. Well, mostly. My wife’s cousin whispered, "Good riddance, he is gone," and I swear I heard my ex mutter something about finally getting her share of the insurance back.

Then… silence.

Absolute, suffocating silence.

And that’s when it hit me.

I WASN’T DEAD.

Panic surged through me like a bolt of lightning. I tried to move nothing. I screamed, but my voice came out in a muffled croak, swallowed by the thick wooden walls of my coffin. My breathing grew shallow, and my mind raced.

Wait… the bell! The safety bell!

I fumbled in the darkness, my fingers finding the string attached to my wrist. I yanked it like my life depended on it because, well, it did. Above ground, the little brass bell started ringing like an enthusiastic cow at a country fair.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

"Get me out! I’m alive!" I screamed, tugging furiously.

Surely someone would notice, right? Right?!

Unfortunately, the mourners had already moved on to the more important part of any funeral the food. The caterers had set up an extravagant buffet, and from what I could hear, my ex-family was now sobbing into a plate of enchiladas.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

I could hear faint voices above. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

"That bell!"

Pause.

"Eh, must be the wind. More enchiladas?"

DING! DING! DING!

Oh, for the love of WIND?! Since when does the wind pull a rope in perfectly timed desperation?

I yanked harder, causing the bell to ring like I was summoning a butler in a five-star hotel. Finally, someone took notice.

"Oh my God, the bell is ringing!"

"Is it… haunted?"

"I TOLD YOU THIS PLACE WAS CURSED!" screamed my cousin Jerry, who had never been the sharpest tool in the shed.

"Dig it up! DIG IT UP!" someone finally shouted.

Shovels clashed against dirt, frantic voices filled the air, and after what felt like an eternity, I saw a sliver of light as the coffin lid was pried open. Fresh air rushed in, and I gasped like a fish on land.

Faces loomed over me, pale as ghosts. My Aunt promptly fainted into the enchiladas.

"What the f " my wife stammered.

I grinned weakly. "Surprise? I’m Back"

The priest Fr. Malcolm crossed himself so fast he almost sprained his wrist. My ex screamed and bolted as if I had risen to claim my insurance. The grave diggers stood in stunned silence. And Amit, bless his heart, whispered, "I always knew zombies were real."

As for me? I lay there, covered in dirt, laughing uncontrollably. Because honestly, what else could I do?

One thing was certain I was never attending my own funeral again.

(I thought a little Humour would be required to cheer everyone up.)

Jacob M