A Fallon Family Funeral

[TVLegend]

WARNING: This might take a while to read through.

CAST:
Torgo - Carl Fallon
Penny Lane - Marilyn Fallon
TVFactFan - Alan Fallon
Bonniegirl - Connie Bodine
LaBestia - Amanda Fallon
Wawwie - Margaret Fallon
opus - Jake Fallon
IllinoisTVFan - Ciara Fallon
MA - Taylor Kane
stevea - Reverend Gabriel Hathaway


*As we open, Carl is shown sitting in one of the armchairs, smoking a cigarette, while Marilyn is pacing back and forth*

Carl (impatiently): You sure you called her, Marilyn?

Marilyn: Of course I’m sure, Carl.

Carl (impatiently): Well, when did you call her?

Marilyn (irritated): Will you quit pickin’ on me?! I said I called her!

Carl: Well, she should’ve been here by now.

Marilyn: I know. But I’m sure she’ll be here any minute.

*Seconds later, the doorbell rings*

Marilyn: That must be Amanda now.

*Marilyn goes to open the door. At the door when she opens it is her daughter, Amanda*

Marilyn: Hi, honey!

Amanda: Hello, mom.

*Amanda gives Marilyn a hug*

Marilyn: I’m so glad you could make it.

*Amanda enters the house and Marilyn closes the door behind her*

Amanda: Hi, dad.

Carl: Hey, there, pumpkin!

Amanda: Now, what’s so important that I had to get out of my bed and drive three hours in the middle of the night?

Carl: Well, it’s my father.

Amanda: What about him?

*Carl lets out a long sigh of sadness*

Carl (emotionally): He died, Amanda. He’s gone.

Amanda (shocked): What?!

*Amanda falls on the couch*

Carl: Yeah. He went earlier.

Amanda: Oh, my god! Has anyone made any funeral arrangements?

Carl: No, not yet.

Amanda: Well, ok. I suppose I could help.

Marilyn: Oh, that’s very nice of you, baby.

*Marilyn takes a seat in one of the armchairs*

Amanda: I know. But first things first, did he have any insurance money?

*Carl nods his head*

Carl: Yeah, he did. He had $100 worth.

Amanda: $100?

Carl: Yeah.

Amanda: Daddy, what in hell is someone supposed to do with $100?

Carl: Well, that’s all he had.

Marilyn: And that’s why we called you.

Carl: Yeah. We could use your help to bury your grandfather, Amanda. You’re the only one in this entire family that’s got lots of money.

Amanda: Wait a minute. What makes you two think I’m rich?

Marilyn: Well, we didn’t say you were rich, but we know you’re doing good for yourself. Oh, please help us, Amanda. Think about your grandfather.

Amanda: Well, ok. Fine. I guess I could write it off on my taxes.

Marilyn: Thank you, baby.

Amanda: So, what funeral home has his body?

Carl: None.

Amanda (confused): What?

Marilyn: We haven’t called nobody yet.

Amanda: So, do you mean to tell me that his body is still here?

*Marilyn nods her head*

Marilyn: Mm-hmm.

Amanda: Well, we need to call the funeral home.

Carl: No, we don’t. They don’t open ‘til in the morning.

Amanda: Uh-uh! I refuse to be in the same house as a man who is no longer with us.

Marilyn: Oh, calm down, sugar. You might enjoy yourself anyways.

Carl: Yeah. Go upstairs and hug your grandfather goodbye.

Amanda (disgusted): Eww! I hope that was some sick joke, because you’re out of your mind if you think I’m hugging up on a dead man. How did grandpa die anyway?

Carl: Well, that’s the thing. We don’t know. We assume that he must’ve went in his sleep.

Marilyn: Yeah. It does happen.

Amanda (confused): Hold on. I very confused now. So, let me get this straight. You people don’t know if my grandfather’s dead or not?

Carl: Nope. And he didn’t say a word to me.

Amanda: And…what makes you think he’s deceased again?

Carl: Well, you know Pops usually calls me to take him to the bathroom every morning, ‘bout 3 o’clock, on a count of he got that doggone kidney failure. But he didn’t say nothin’ his morning.

Marilyn: Yup.

Carl: So, we figured he died.

Amanda: This is silly. So you automatically think that someone’s dead just because they don’t speak?

Marilyn: Well, Amanda, you know it’s not like your grandfather to do something like this.

*Amanda stands up*

Amanda: We’re in Atlanta, in the summertime. Don’t you two think that someone oughta go upstairs and check on grandpa?

Carl: I’m not about to go up there after Pops. Uh-uh.

Amanda: Dad!

Carl: Dad, nothing. I’ve seen way too many dead people. I had to watch my late mother die, her mother, all my aunts and uncles, and the list goes on.

Amanda: Daddy, this is your father we’re talking about.

Carl: I don’t care.

Amanda: What about you, mom?

*Marilyn quickly shakes her head*

Marilyn: Uh-uh, sweetie. You know I don’t go for that creepy stuff. I’ll likely have a heart attack or kill myself if I go in there. Things like that give me the creeps.

Amanda: Fine. I’ll go. It’s the least I can do, since you two don’t want to check on him.

*Amanda begins to walk off, when Marilyn picks up some sheets and hands them to her*

Marilyn: Here, baby. Do you think you can change the sheets while you’re up there?

*Amanda quickly hands the sheets back in disgust*

Amanda (disgusted): Eww! Of course not! You have got to be kidding me!

*Amanda heads upstairs before Marilyn sits back down*

Marilyn: Lord have mercy, Carl. I feel like this house is no longer a home without Pops. What are we gonna do now?

Carl: Well, I know we over 60, but we could start havin’ sex again.

Marilyn (disgusted): Ugh! Carl, this is neither the time nor the place for that foolishness. Now, you cut that out before our poor daughter hears you.

Carl: Oh, come on, Marilyn! Grow up and calm down. Besides, our daughter’s a grown woman now. She knows what it’s like to want…sexual healing.

Marilyn: Carl, I swear. If you don’t shut the hell up, you’re gonna be joining your father.

*Seconds later, Amanda enters the room, seeming upset*

Amanda (upset): You guys were right. Pops is dead. He’s gone. I-I just can’t believe it.

*Amanda crosses into the living room, falls on the couch, and begins to cry. After realizing this, Marilyn gets up and puts her arms around her daughter*

Marilyn: Now, there, there. Don’t you cry, child. Your grandfather’s in a better place.

Carl (emotional): Amanda?

Amanda (emotional): Yes, father?

Carl (emotional): What did he look like?

Amanda (emotional): Oh, he looked just like you, daddy.

Marilyn: Now, don’t say that, Amanda. I’m sure Pops wasn’t nearly as ugly as your father.

*Carl sucks his teeth in aggravation*

Amanda (emotional): Except he was dead, of course. But, for some reason, he looked so peaceful.

Carl (emotional): That’s ‘cause he was a peaceful man.

Marilyn: I wouldn’t say that. He did cuss like a sailor.

Carl (emotional): Now, Marilyn. Under that mean, tough and rough exterior was a peaceful man. And I’m gonna miss my daddy.

Marilyn: I hope you know that he truly loved you, Carl.

Carl (emotional): I do.

Marilyn: Hell, he loved all of us. He just didn’t like to show it.

*Amanda takes a deep sigh*

Amanda: Well, I better call 911 to come get his body.

Marilyn: Where are they going to take him to?

Amanda: I don’t know. To the morgue until we find a funeral home, I guess.

*Amanda gets from off the couch and leaves out of the living room*

Marilyn: Well, I guess I’ll call up the family and tell them.

Amanda: I’ll be more than happy to help you, mother.

Marilyn: Thank you, baby.

Amanda: You’re welcome.

*Marilyn approaches Carl, who’s sitting in one of the armchairs*

Marilyn: Are you all right, Carl?

Carl: Yeah, yeah. I’m good. I’m just gonna miss my daddy.

Marilyn: I know, honey. Believe me, I know.

*The next morning, Marilyn is shown singing while cleaning up in the living room, when Amanda enters the room*

Amanda: Good morning, mom.

Marilyn: Good morning, sweetie.

Amanda: You seem to be in a good mood.

Marilyn: I may seem like it. But deep down, I’m not.

Amanda: Hmm. Where’s daddy?

Marilyn: Upstairs. I don’t know what he’s doing, though. He might be laying in the bed. But on the other hand, he might be crying his eyes out. Do you know that he talked about Pops all night last night? That’s just about all he talked about. I wanted to put my hands on him so darn bad.

Amanda: Well, Pops was his father.

Marilyn: I know, but it was too much. You should’ve been there. He’d cry and fart, then fart and cry.

Amanda: Come on, mom. Cut daddy some slack. He’s dealing with the loss of my grandfather.

Marilyn: Well, I didn’t know that losing a loved one could mess with your stomach. I don’t know why on earth he can’t just do like those people on TV and sit to the side in silence.

Amanda: I still can’t fathom how and why you two are still married after all these years.

Marilyn: The answer’s simple, honey. Once your father dies, I’ll be sure to get so much money that I won’t even have to worry about all the hell he rose.

*Marilyn and Amanda laugh in unison*

Marilyn: Damnit! I keep forgetting that I need to mop this dirty floor here. Oh, did you get in touch with anyone last night?

*Amanda nods her head*

Amanda: Oh, yeah. First, I called Uncle Alan.

Marilyn: That’s great. I couldn’t get ahold of that old fool.

Amanda: I can’t believe that he kept me on the phone for almost two hours praying and talking in tongues.

Marilyn: Well, you know how your uncle is. At least he isn’t sick, but if he were, he’d be as quiet as a mouse.

Amanda: Well, I actually fell asleep on him, and when I woke up, he was still on the phone, just flapping his gums.

*Marilyn laughs*

Amanda: But he said that he was coming.

Marilyn: Well, I knew he was. Pops was his very own father.

Amanda: And then I called Aunt Margaret.

Marilyn: Oh, boy.

Amanda: Mom, she was so drunk, I don’t think she understood half of what I said.

Marilyn: That woman still drinks all day?

Amanda: And all night. But anyways, she said she was coming too. And so are Jake and Ciara, she says.

Marilyn: That’s nice. That’s real nice. The last time your cousin and his wife were down here was when your grandmother died.

Amanda: I know. But I talked to the rest of the family, and most of them said that they’d be able to attend the funeral.

Marilyn: Good. Umm, Amanda, can I talk to you?

Amanda: Of course. What’s up?

Marilyn: Well, one part of me is sad about your grandfather’s death, and then the other wants that old bastard to rot in hell for flirting with his daughter-in-law!

Amanda (shocked): Mom! Pops flirted with you?!

Marilyn: He flirted with everyone who was born a female and not related to him. I remember one time, ‘bout 7 years ago, I came into this very same living room wearing some real tight pants, and then Pops, who was sitting in one of the armchairs, he said, “Marilyn, come over here and sit on your daddy-in-law’s lap.”

Amanda (disgusted): Ugh!

Marilyn: I know! After that, I couldn’t stand to be in the same room with that ancient heathen unless Carl was in the room, with the rifle in his hand.

Amanda: Well, he was definitely a Fallon, mom. All the Fallon men are destined to be womanizers.

Marilyn: Unfortunately. Anyway, I hope I’m able to make it nice and neat in here before company comes.

Amanda: Oh, ma. Why must all those people stay here?

Marilyn: Why not?

Amanda: Why can’t they go to a hotel?

Marilyn: Now I know you’ve been around them ritzy, snooty people for way too long. Even you should know that when someone in this family dies, the family members always come and stay at your home.

Amanda: Well, I don’t like that. It becomes way too crowded.

*Amanda takes a seat in one of the armchairs*

Marilyn: Honey, are you ok?

Amanda: Yeah. Why?

Marilyn: Well, you know we’ve got a funeral to plan and all, and we have to be out a casket while we’re still dealing with the loss of your grandfather. And your grandmother died only three years ago.

*Marilyn wraps her arms around Amanda before Amanda rudely brushes her off and gets up*

Amanda: Look, I said I was fine! So just get off of my case. I’ll be ok.

Marilyn: Well, excuse me for trying to care about your well-being! Since I’m apparently an old woman, I might as well be reduced to acting like one.

Amanda: Oh, I’m sorry, mom! I’m just a little shaken up about grandpa’s death.

Marilyn: I know you are. We all are.

*The doorbell rings*

Marilyn: Come on in!

*Alan enters the home with a suitcase in his hand*

Alan (loudly): Hey, there, family!

Marilyn: Look at you, Alan. You haven’t changed one bit.

Amanda (under her breath): What a pity.

Marilyn: Come on over here and give your sister-in-law a hug, Alan.

*Alan drops his suitcase and gives Marilyn a hug*

Alan (loudly): Honey, it is real good to see you! You look terrific. If you wasn’t married to my brother, I’d take you home.

*Marilyn laughs*

Marilyn: Thank you, Fallon.

Alan (loudly): Is that my niece I see over there?!

Amanda: Yes, it is.

Alan (loudly): Well, then, give your uncle a hug!

*Alan and Amanda hug*

Alan (loudly): Both of y’all look terrific! Just wonderful!

*Carl enters the room and immediately notices his brother, Alan*

Carl: Well, hey there, my big brother!

*Carl gives Alan a pound hug*

Alan: Ooh, you look awful, Carl.

Carl: So do you. What the hell you got on? It’s loud. Were you trying to find the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow?

Alan: Oh, hush up. This is just one of my signature suits.

Carl: Well, you making my signature vomit come up.

Alan: Oh, I got somebody I want y’all to meet.

Amanda: Who is that?

Alan (loudly): Come on in, Connie! Don’t be afraid!

*Connie enters the home*

Connie: Hello, everyone.

Alan: I want y’all to meet my daughter, Connie Marie. Go on, Connie. Introduce yourself.

Connie: Hello. I’m Connie Marie Bodine.

*Connie and Marilyn shake hands*

Marilyn: Well, it’s nice to meet you, Connie.

Carl (confused): You said that’s your daughter, Alan?

*Alan nods his head*

Alan: Yeah, this is my baby.

Marilyn (confused): Wait a minute, Alan. What are you talking about? You only have two children.

Alan: Well, now I got one more. Connie Marie here is my daughter. She’s my baby.

Carl: Well, that sure is a lot a baby fat she got.

Marilyn: Hush up, Carl! Don’t pay no attention to my husband, Connie. He just says dumb things to get attention.

Alan: Yeah. See, that ugly man who said that is your Uncle Carl, sweetie.

Carl: How are you, Connie?

Connie: I’m doing just fine, thank you.

*Carl and Connie shake hands*

Alan: And the older woman who looks good for her age is his wife, Marilyn.

*Marilyn and Connie shake hands*

Alan: And the pretty young lady is their daughter, Atamela.

Amanda: Don’t listen to him. My name’s Amanda.

Alan: That’s what I said, Amantelpiece.

Connie: How do you do, Amanda?

Amanda: I’m doing just fine, thank you, Connie.

*Amanda and Connie shake hands*

Alan: Say, what y’all got to drink? I’m thirsty as hell after all that driving.

Carl: We got some milk in the refrigerator. You could help yourself to that.

Alan: I will. There ain’t nothing like milk to make my old bones all strong.

*Alan goes into the kitchen to grab some milk from out of the refrigerator*

Marilyn: You know what, Carl? Connie looks awfully familiar to me.

Carl: She looks familiar to me too, now that you say that.

Amanda: I think she looks familiar as well.

Marilyn: Connie, I’m just curious. Do you know somebody named Thelma Bodine?

Connie: Why, yes. She happens to be my mother.

Carl: Wait, what?

*Everyone turns and looks at Alan, while he nervously drinks milk straight up from the jug*

Marilyn: Thelma’s really your mother?

Connie: Yes, do you know her well?

Carl (disgusted): Who don’t know her well?

Marilyn: Have a seat.

Carl: Ew, no! She might’ve caught a disease from her mama.

Marilyn: Don’t listen to him, Connie. He’s an idiot. Have a seat.

*Connie takes a seat in one of the armchairs*

Carl (disgusted): Fallon?!

Alan (nervously): Uh, yes, Carl?

Carl (disgusted): Now, I hope there ain’t no way in hell you was that dumb and desperate. You really was with Thelma Bodine, that no good woman who used to strip at The House of the Groovy Men and Chicks Who Look Like Men?

Alan: Yes, I was. Now, hush up, Carl.

Carl (curious): Umm, Connie, how old are you?

Connie: I’m 48 years old, sir.

Carl: Hmm, 48 years old.

*Carl nods his head*

Carl: 48. Now, that’s going to put you back in the prom night of…1973! And I remember telling you not to go out with that loudmouth Thelma Bodine, Fallon. But no, you wouldn’t listen to nobody. You had to be wild. No offense, Connie, but your mother was 6’1” and had a miniskirt on. Now, that’s gross. She looked like a big, old tree with a paper towel wrapped around her.

Alan: Carl, stop that!

Carl: If you stood up beside her, you could still look up under her skirt.

Marilyn: Shut up, Carl! That’s enough! I’m sorry, Connie. It’s obvious that my husband’s a jackass. We glad to have you a part of the family anyways.

Connie: Well, I thank you for that.

Marilyn: You’re welcome, sweetie.

Carl: That’s right. It don’t matter who your father was knocking up, just know that you’re always welcome.

Alan: You made me forget somebody else outside, Carl. With all that foolishness.

Carl: Who? You got another daughter with thunder thighs Thelma?

*Alan sucks his teeth in aggravation*

Alan: No! I’m talking about that woman you told me to pick up. I got her.

Marilyn: Got who?

Alan: You’ll see. Come on in! You can come on!

*Seconds later, Taylor enters the home*

Taylor: Five more minutes and I would’ve walked home.

Alan: Everybody, this is Taylor. Taylor, this is everybody. The old, ugly one’s my brother, Carl, and the older, but yet sexy lady is his wife, Marilyn, and the young lady is their daughter, Amanda, and you was in the car with Connie.

Taylor: Hello, everyone.

Marilyn: Hi, Taylor. It’s a pleasure to meet you.

Amanda: I wish I could say the same. If only I knew who this total stranger was.

Marilyn: Now, Amanda! Hush up. Obviously someone here knows her.

*Later in the day, Marilyn is shown showing Taylor pictures of the family from the photo album*

Marilyn: Now, that’s Pops, and…Alan, is this you?

*Alan takes a gander at the picture*

Alan: Yeah, that’s me.

Marilyn: Wow. I’ve never seen you without a beer belly before. Anyways, that’s Alan, and that’s my husband when he was a little boy, and that’s my husband’s mother, and that’s his sister, Margaret when she was a baby.

Alan: Margaret didn’t do nothing but spit up when she was a baby. And then she didn’t learn how to use the bathroom or walk ‘til she was six.

Carl: Now, Fallon, that’s a total lie! Margaret didn’t learn how to use the bathroom until she was seven and she didn’t learn how to walk until she was four.

*Marilyn flips the page*

Marilyn: Now, that’s Pops at his wedding, and-

*Carl takes a gander at the picture*

Carl: That’s my mother. Yeah, that marriage didn’t last longer than a mere month.

*Marilyn and Taylor are interrupted by the doorbell ringing*

Connie: Ya’ll want me to get the door for you?

Carl: Oh, no, Connie. Don’t move a muscle. You’re a guest. I’ll get it.

*Carl gets up and answers the door to find Jake and Ciara standing there, with suitcases and bags in their hands*

Ciara: Knock, knock!

Marilyn: Hey there, Ciara!

Ciara: Hi, everybody!

*Ciara approaches Carl and Alan*

Ciara: Oh, how are my two…uncle-in-laws doing?

*Ciara laughs*

Alan: We doing just fine, niece.

*Carl gives Ciara a hug, and awkwardly pats down on her butt*

Ciara (uncomfortable): Please stop.

Jake (disgusted): Uncle Carl, what’s wrong with you man?! Why would you do that?

*Carl lets go of Ciara*

Ciara: There’s definitely no denying that you’re Pops’ son, Uncle Carl.

*Carl sits back down*

Alan (loudly): Ciara, look at you!

*Alan and Ciara hug*

Alan (loudly): You’re a spitting image of your mama!

Ciara: That’s what they say.

Alan (loudly): You look skinny. Very skinny. But bad skinny. Have you been eating?

Ciara: Of course I’ve been eating.

Alan: I know what it is.

Ciara: What, Uncle Alan?

Alan: You still don’t know how to cook.

Ciara: What are you talking about? I know how to cook.

Alan: Girlie, you know you can’t cook. The streets are talking. They say that you almost burnt down your mama’s house trying to boil some water.

Marilyn: Fallon, leave Ciara alone about her cooking.

Alan: Oh, Connie, Taylor, this is Jake and Ciara. Jake’s a writer and Ciara-

Alan, Marilyn, Carl, and Amanda (in unison): Can’t cook.

*Jake and Ciara roll their eyes and fall on the couch*

Ciara: Well, it is nice to see that the place is still looking the same.

Carl: Well, we don’t have no money to fix it up. If we did, I’d get rid of that old couch you’re sitting on, and that old lump I’ve been laying on.

Marilyn (offended): Now, just what the hell is that supposed to mean?!

Carl: Nothing, dear. Nothing.

Marilyn: Jake, where’s Margaret?

Jake: Mom’s getting out of the car and getting on our nerves. I refused to help her out.

*All of a sudden, Margaret is heard crying loudly outside*

Taylor: What on earth is that?

Carl: My drunken and foolish sister.

*Margaret enters the home wearing sunglasses*

Margaret (upset): Oh, hell to the no! Not daddy! You didn’t have to take Pops away from me! But he’s gone! Why didn’t I join him, lord?!

Alan: Margaret, sit down and shut up with all that drama.

*Margaret takes a seat on the couch next to Jake and Ciara*

Margaret (upset): Oh, I don’t know how I’ll ever recover from the loss of Pops.

Marilyn: Do you want a cool can of beer, Margaret?

Margaret (no longer upset): Oh, yes! Beer’ll hit the spot.

Connie: I’ll get it.

*Connie gets up. Margaret then turns and takes her sunglasses off to get a good look at Connie*

Margaret: Wait a minute. Who is this big blonde beast that’s blinding me?!

Connie (offended): Excuse me?

Margaret: Let’s address the elephant in the room, ok? The elephant!

Alan: Margaret, that’s my daughter. This is your niece, Connie. Connie, that’s your Aunt Margaret.

Margaret (shocked): Your daughter?

*Margaret stands up in shock*

Margaret (shocked): How did that happen? I mean, Fallon, I didn’t know your soldiers marched.

Carl: Yeah. Remember when he was in school, and he had on those tight pants, and then somehow he got his pencil stuck in his pocket?

Margaret: And then he fell trying to get it out.

*Carl and Margaret start laughing in unison*

Margaret: Instant vasectomy!

Alan: You can laugh all you want, but you wouldn’t enjoy having lead poisoning in your…privacy.

Margaret: You do look a little familiar, now that I think about it, Connie. Tell me. What’s your mama’s name?

*Connie turns and looks at Alan before turning back to Margaret*

Connie: Umm…Thelma Bodine.

Margaret: Thelma Bodine.

*Margaret laughs*

Margaret: The stripper, Fallon? Really? That’s absolutely disgusting.

Connie (angrily): Now, just wait a damn minute! You don’t know my mother!

Margaret: The hell I don’t! Everybody knows her, including the drunken sailors!

Connie (angrily): Look, I don’t want you talking about me or my family or my mother!

Margaret: I don’t give a damn!

Connie (angrily): Oh, really? Well, keep it up. I got something in my purse for you. I can’t tell you what it is just this minute, but it’s sharp!

Margaret: Please don’t cut or stab me. You’ll live to regret it.

Carl: Now, that enough, you two!

Marilyn: Carl’s right. Ya’ll sit down.

*Connie and Margaret sit down*

Alan: Connie, I can’t even believe you’d think about resorting to violence. You’re better than that. That’s your own aunt.

Connie: I don’t care. She’s not an aunt of mines, carrying on like that. What’s the matter with her?

*Margaret looks at Taylor*

Margaret: Wait a minute. Who’s that girl sitting over there that’s as quiet as a church mouse?

*Taylor looks up at Margaret*

Margaret: Yeah, I’m talking about you, girlie. Let me guess? This is another one of your daughters, huh, Fallon?

*Margaret laughs*

Alan: Shut up, Margaret.

Marilyn: Margaret, she’s not a girl. She’s a woman.

Margaret: Well, excuse me! What’s your name, “woman”?

Taylor: Umm…my name’s Taylor Kane.

Margaret: Well, hi, Taylor. Where do you live?

Taylor: I live in Los Angeles.

Margaret: Daddy!

*Margaret bursts into tears*

Margaret (emotional): See, you don’t understand, Taylor. See, Pops lived in Los Angeles a very long time ago, before he returned to Atlanta. Oh, I’m gonna miss my father!

Carl: Now, Margaret, I’m not about to allow all that noise in my house. Not over dead daddy.

*Margaret gets herself together*

Margaret: Anyways, enough about Pops. What are the room arrangements? I mean, who’s sleeping where?

Marilyn: I don’t know all that right now, but I guess you can sleep in Pops’ old room, Margaret.

Margaret (disgusted): Oh, hell no! I’m not about to sleep in a room where some dead man died!

Marilyn: Oh, don’t worry, Margaret. I’ve been sleeping with a dead man for years.

Carl: Mm-hmm.

*Carl quickly realizes what Marilyn said and looks at her in confusion*

Carl (confused): Wait, what?

Marilyn: Oh, nothing, dear.

Carl: Now, Marilyn, just because you raised Lazarus doesn’t mean he’s dead.

*Marilyn rolls her eyes*

Marilyn: Anyways, we’ll worry about the rooms another time, Margaret. We’re going over to see Reverend Hathaway in just a minute.

Margaret: Reverend Hathaway?

*Marilyn nods her head*

Marilyn: Mm-hmm.

Margaret: Wait a minute. You talking about fine, handsome, bodacious, hunk-a-hunk Reverend Hathaway?

Amanda: Aunt Margaret, please don’t start up. We’re just going to make the funeral arrangements. It’s not that serious.

Margaret: Ok, gotcha.

*Margaret stands up*

Margaret: Well, in that case, I guess I’ll go with ya’ll. And I might as well hurry up and take off my underwear while I’m at it.

Ciara: Miss Margaret, that won’t be necessary.

Margaret: Well, fine. I’ll leave the underwear on, but I’m still coming with ya’ll. Besides, I don’t want my daddy’s funeral to be all tacky and gaudy anyways. I want Pops to go out in style.

Marilyn: Well, I guess we better get on over to the church.

Margaret: I guess we better.

Alan: Wait a minute. Are y’all going to the church to decorate?

Marilyn: Why, yes, we are. Why?

Alan: Well, that’s great. That’s perfect, because Connie likes to do that inferior decorating.

Marilyn: You mean interior decorating?

Alan: Same thing. Go help them out, Connie. Go help them. You too, Taylor. Both of ya’ll go.

Marilyn: Oh, please come with us. We sure could use some help.

*Connie and Taylor get up*

Connie: Well, who asked you to volunteer my services, dad? They don’t need a decorator. They need a referee around here.

Alan: Just help them out, sugar. It’ll be alright.

Margaret: Well, hold on. Hold on, now. Wait a minute. Fallon, if you think that Connie’s riding with us, then you got another thing coming, because it looks to me like my little sweet and kind niece is just a little too big for my car. Yes, she is.

Connie: Oh, really?

Margaret: Yep.

Connie: Well, let me tell you something. I haven’t been saved all of my life. And I don’t believe you know my mama well enough. She might be known to you as a common stripper, but she’s known to others as a common slayer. And you don’t know me either! You don’t know me! You want crazy? I’ll show you crazy. You don’t know what I got. I have something in my purse that’ll slice you up real good, auntie! Oh, yeah!

Margaret: Wow. I didn’t know you had something in your purse all for me. You know what? I want to see it. Show me what you have in your little purse. What you got in there, Connie? What you got? What you got? Huh?

Connie: See, I try to avoid people like you. Ya’ll always drive my crazy. I’m a peaceful person, I don’t bother nobody and I don’t want nobody bothering me.

*Connie pulls out a knife and everyone responds by ducking and screaming in horror*

Alan: Connie!

Connie: Connie, nothing. She don’t have no right to talk to me like that.

*Everyone calms down once Connie puts the knife back in her purse*

Marilyn: Now, Connie, I like you, and you seem to be a nice woman, but I don’t allow guns or knives to be used like that in my home.

Connie: I’m sorry Miss Marilyn, but she asked what I had in my purse, and I showed her.

Margaret: Ooh, my niece is tough. She’s really tough! Look at that, Carl. Ain’t she tough?

Carl: Yeah. Too tough.

Margaret: That’s what the Fallon bloodline’ll do for you. She’s a pure Fallon. I can say that much. Anyway, all I was doing was calling it like I see it. It’s not my fault that the truth hurts.

Alan: Connie, you better calm down, or else, you’re gonna be in jail just like your mama. So calm down. Get a grip. Just walk away. Be the better person.

Marilyn: Your father’s right. That’s all you can do with her. Learn to ignore her and handle it like a lady.

Connie: Ya’ll are right. I’ll learn to ignore her, with her ugly self.

Margaret: Excuse me, but I’m standing right here.

Marilyn: Oh, we see you. Looking like a wrinkly, washed up Barbie doll. Pops would be disappointed in you, insulting your own niece.

Margaret: Whatever. Say, what is my daddy gonna be wearing? Did he have a suit or something? I want him to look nice.

Carl: Pops didn’t have any suits. Every time we took him somewhere, he wore one of mine.

Margaret: Well, let’s go and give him another one of yours.

Carl: Hell no. I only have two suits: one is for bingo, and the other is for…bingo.

Marilyn: I’ll remember that when it’s your turn to leave us, Carl. Come on, ya’ll. Let’s go over the church. Ciara, you coming?

Ciara: Oh, no. Ya’ll go ahead. I’ll look after the men while I start some supper.

Everybody (in unison): Hell no!

Carl: Not in this house, you won’t.

Marilyn: Umm, Ciara, I don’t mean no harm, but I don’t like anyone being in my kitchen.

Ciara: Oh, Aunt Marilyn! Relax, it’s no problem.

Alan: Uh, yes it is. You go on with the ladies.

Ciara: Well, ok.

*Ciara gets up*

Margaret: Somebody give me a bible. I might as well read a little something to win over that handsome Reverend Hathaway when we get there.

Marilyn: Now, Margaret, you know the last time we went to go see Reverend Hathaway, you acted a plum fool. He almost called the police on you.

Margaret: I don’t care what you say, I still think that he was trying to get kinky.

Marilyn: Whatever. Come on. Let’s go. Carl, get this house ready for me. Mop over this floor real good for me. I want it spick and span in here. And I’ll see you when I get back.

*The ladies leave the house*

Alan: Jake, help us move this stuff so your Uncle Carl can mop.

*Jake gets up and helps Carl and Alan move the furniture*

Carl: Man, I’m glad the ladies gone. All that noise was getting on my nerves.

Alan: Well, you oughta be used to that by now. We had to hear all that noise when mama died.

Carl: I’m never going to be used to that. I like to be to myself. I need to unwind. Jake, go get me a cold beer.

Jake: Ok, Uncle Carl.

*Jake goes into the kitchen to get his uncle a cold beer and gets one for himself*

Carl: Thank you, my good nephew. Uh, Fallon, do you want a beer?

*Alan shakes his head*

Alan: Uh-uh. I don’t want no beer. I’m a saved man. I can’t stand that stuff no more. I don’t want it. I don’t drink. I’m not much of a drinker. So I don’t want no beer. Don’t give me no beer. That’s the devil’s work. I’m saved. I don’t want-

Jake: Uncle Alan, please calm down. If you don’t want a beer, all you have to do is say that. It’s not that hard.

Carl: What are you trying to say anyways, Fallon? A man can’t have a good beer without going to hell?

Alan: No, it’s what you do after you drink them beers is what sends you to hell.

Carl: Well, let’s see. I only have three, so get you one on your way to hell.

Jake: Here you go, Uncle Carl.

*Jake hands Carl his beer*

Carl: Thank you, Jake.

Jake: You’re welcome.

*Carl and Jake open their beers*

Alan: Nephew, I’m just curious, how tall are you now?

Jake (sipping on beer): I’m 6’2”, Uncle Alan.

Alan: Wow! You are a tall boy.

Jake: Well, I really wouldn’t consider myself a boy anymore.

Alan: That’s right. You’re a tall young man now.

Carl: You know, Jake, we didn’t think you was going to make it when you were born.

Jake: What do you mean?

Carl: Tell him, Fallon.

Alan: Well, your mother drunk clean up until the day she had you. You see, they’d tell her to push, and she would take a drink and push, and then take a drink and push, and take a drink and push. You was so little, and you looked malnourished.

Jake: Mm-hmm.

Alan: I mean, you were as small as a pea. Hell, you might’ve been even smaller. And then you were all shriveled up. I wish you was able to look at yourself. You were so little. But your head was so darn big.

*Jake nods his head*

Carl: It was. Jake, you looked just like a lollipop.

Jake: Ok, enough.

Alan: I remember the day when you had your first swimming lesson. They put you in that water and somehow you went in there head first. Everybody was laughing at you, including the-

Jake (irritated): Ok, I said that’s enough! You two just don’t know when to stop! I saw the pictures, and I don’t need to be constantly reminded of my big head.

Alan: Well, ok, fine! Calm down, Ike Turner. But anyways, you’re a successful man now.

Carl: He sure is.

Alan: Jake, I’m really glad you’ve been able to make a name of yourself and rise above your relatives.

Jake: Yeah, I’m probably the only famous person in this family.

Alan: No, you’re not, actually.

Jake: I’m not?

*Alan shakes his head*

Alan: Nope. There’s plenty of famous people in the Fallon family.

Jake: Like who?

Carl: Go on. Tell him ‘bout his kin folks, Fallon.

Alan: Uh, do you know Ginny Fallon?

Jake (confused): Who?

Alan: Ginny Fallon. That man that’s got that tonight show.

Jake: You mean Jimmy Fallon?

Alan: Yeah, that sounds right. Well, that’s your late grandmother’s grandmother’s niece’s great, great, great, great nephew.

Jake (confused): What?

Alan: I say Jimmy’s your late grandmother’s grandmother’s niece’s great, great, great, great nephew. And I bet you didn’t know that Louberto Fallon’s your cousin.

Jake: Who?

Alan: Louberto Fallon. He’s famous for drinking paint. But anyways, we do have a lot of famous folk, but you’re the only writer, Jake.

Carl: Hold on, Alan. He’s not just a writer, he’s the writer.

Alan: That’s true.

Carl: Speaking of this writing stuff, don’t you want to cool it with that, Jake?

Jake: No, why?

Carl: Well, I’m just saying. Miss Wilma, who lives across the street, she said that she saw your movie, uh, what’s it called?

Alan: A Man Trapped In A Hog’s Body?

Carl: Yeah, yeah. She said she watched, and she didn’t like it.

Jake: What about the movie did she not like?

Carl: Well, she said that she didn’t like the part where Chuck The Guinea Pig came back to life as Mickey Mouse.

Jake: Well, I’ve been writing for quite some time now, and I wouldn’t dream of stopping. And I don’t find anything wrong with my writing.

Carl: Well, why does every movie have to be a drama? Why can’t you do a comedy, something like them Three Stooges?

Jake: Because I don’t want to!

Carl: I don’t know why on earth you didn’t want to become a gynecologist. That’s a good job. Plus, you get to “play” with women. Ain’t that right, Fallon?

Alan: Oh, I wouldn’t know. I don’t want to think about that anyways. I’m saved.

Carl: Oh, you saved, huh?

Alan: Yes.

Carl: Were you saved that night you were climbing that big, old Thelma tree?

*Carl and Jake laugh in unison*

Alan: That ain’t funny. And that was over 40 years ago. You need to get off of Thelma’s back.

Carl: I wish you wouldn't have let Thelma get on her back, then we wouldn’t be discussing that.

*Later on, the ladies are shown trying to pick out a casket while Connie arranges some flowers and Margaret guzzles down a bottle of wine*

Marilyn: Now, look here. This is a nice casket, isn’t it?

Margaret: Let me see what you’re looking at.

*Marilyn points at one of the caskets*

Marilyn: That one right there.

Margaret: Oh, no, no! You ain’t fixing to put Pops in no damn pine box. I like the one over there.

*Margaret points at one of the caskets*

Marilyn: Well, that one right there is $7,000.

Amanda: Oh, don’t worry, mom. I’m sure Aunt Margaret will be willing to pay for it.

*Margaret chokes on the wine*

Margaret: The plain, old pine box will be just perfect for daddy. But, oh, I’m gonna miss my daddy so much!

*Margaret starts crying*

Amanda: Aw. Well, what type of father was Pops?

Margaret: Oh, the best!

*Margaret accidentally spits on Amanda while talking and Amanda wipes the spit off of her*

Margaret: Oh, I remember that day I was in that store with Miss Millie.

Marilyn (confused): Miss Millie?

Margaret: Yeah and-Wait a minute. I think I’m thinking about The Color Purple. But anyways, I was feeling mighty bad. I was feeling might low.

*Margaret grabs Marilyn’s face*

Margaret: And then I saw your face, Marilyn, and I just knew there was a god.

Amanda: Aunt Margaret!

Ciara: Miss Margaret, let go of her!

Taylor: What’s wrong with her?

Marilyn: Let go of me!

*Marilyn pulls away from Margaret*

Connie: Miss Margaret, what’s wrong with you? Are you going crazy? What was that?

Marilyn: Something is wrong with you, Margaret. I’ve been telling you for the longest that you need a checkup. I believe Pops dropped you on your head when you were a baby.

Margaret: I’m sorry, Marilyn. I’m fine, I just didn’t take my medicine this morning.

Amanda: Well, it shows.

Margaret: Amanda, why must you be so rude?

Amanda: And why must you be so drunk?

Margaret: A lady never drinks. She sips.

Connie: Miss Margaret, just get yourself together. We’re preparing for the funeral here.

Margaret: I know, I know. Anyways, like I was saying about daddy. He was the best father and a good man. You just don’t see too many good men like him anymore.

Marilyn: I know that’s right.

Connie: Well, not necessarily. I mean, there are still some good men around.

Amanda: Now, Connie does have a point.

Margaret: No, she doesn’t. And besides, how would you know a good man when you see one, Connie? My deadbeat brother wasn’t even there for you.

Connie: Now, see, that’s where you’re wrong, Miss Margaret. Because whenever I needed advice, your brother was right around the corner for me. And all my mother would say was, “punch their lights out!” But your brother was my neighbor for about 20 years. And in those 20 years, he was the nicest person I ever met. He taught me how to handle things with class and respect for myself and others. He even took me to church. And if it weren’t for him, I’d probably be dead today. But I can’t believe that Mr. Fallon, my neighbor and confidante is really my dad.

Margaret: Well, that’s my brother. He certainly took after Pops.

*Margaret coughs*

Margaret (emotional): Lord, Pops! I miss him already!

*Margaret bursts into tears*

Connie: It’s ok, Miss Margaret.

Amanda: You know, I wish that more men would stand up and take their place beside their woman. It seems like all a man cares about today is impregnating women and running off.

Marilyn: Well, that’s not necessarily true. Sometimes, all a woman has to do is cook a man a nice, hot meal. But some of these loosey goosey young girls are more worried about wiggling their hips and batting their lashes.

Margaret: That’s true, too.

Amanda: Oh, come on, mom. That’s a stereotype.

Marilyn: You call it a stereotype. But I call it reality. These young ladies out here need to learn how to outsmart the big and bad men these days. Look at me, for example. You can’t fool me at all. I’m an old school fool.

Margaret: You and me both.

Marilyn: I check wallets, bank statements, cell phone records, and everything in between. I’ll even check my husband’s time card at work.

Amanda: What?

Marilyn: Oh, yes. I check that time card to make sure that the money he’s bringing in matches the hours he said he works.

Margaret: That’s how you do it! That’s the gospel truth! You have to teach these young’ uns that.

Connie: Now, hold on, Miss Marilyn. I don’t quite agree. Don’t you think that’s an invasion of privacy?

Marilyn: To me, there’s no such thing as an invasion of privacy, sweetie.

Connie: Well, I believe that if you have a man, you ought to be able to trust your man and believe in him.

Ciara: My sentiments exactly.

Amanda: Mines too.

Connie: I mean, why be in a relationship if you can’t trust a person?

Marilyn: That’s spoken just like a woman who doesn’t have a man.

Margaret: You can say that again!

Connie: Really, Miss Marilyn?

Marilyn: Oh, I’m just kidding, Connie. But I’ve been married for quite some time. And marriage might not be beer and pretzels, and yes, yes, on occasions we do fuss and cuss, but in the end, we still love each other very much.

Ciara: That’s nice.

Marilyn: Now, Connie, there’s some men that’ll get up in the morning, and they’ll do right.

Margaret: Amen.

Marilyn: Because they fear God. And then, sadly, there’s the kind of man I married.

Connie: Well, what kind of man is that?

Marilyn: The ones you have to put the fear of God in.

Connie: Well, I personally want a man that already has the fear of God in him. Because I don’t feel like doing what the parents should have done a long time ago.

Ciara: And that’s exactly why I’m glad to have Jake. I don’t have to worry about all of that foolishness. Oh, Miss Margaret, you did a great job raising my husband.

Margaret: Well, thank you, baby. Thank you. But you know, it wasn’t exactly easy being a single mother, raising my child.

Connie: Oh, yes. I know. I raised two boys and one girl, on my own, for most of their childhood.

Margaret: Wow. Well, let me tell you. I remember when my Jakey was a little boy, he’d sit in front of the TV, with his cute self, watching cartoons, and then I’d come in the room, and I’d say, “Sweetie, I just know that you’re gonna make something out of yourself when you grow up!”

Connie: You have to tell them that. You have to encourage them.

Margaret: “Or else…I’ll kill you dead!”

Marilyn: Margaret!

Connie: Miss Margaret, calm down! Take a breather.

Marilyn: She don’t need to take a breather. She needs to be sent to the mental hospital.

Taylor: Is she ok?

Marilyn: No, she ain’t ok, dumpling. She always does that, for some reason.

Margaret: I’m ok. I’m fine. Umm, Taylor, I noticed that you haven’t said much since we got here. You’re gonna need to speak up eventually.

*Taylor starts crying and runs out of the room*

Margaret: Well, what’s wrong with her? Is she crazy?

Marilyn: Margaret! Sometimes, you really need to hush your mouth.

Margaret: I didn’t say anything wrong!

Marilyn: No, it’s the way you said it.

Ciara: Aunt Marilyn’s right. Now, if you had any common sense, Miss Margaret, you’d go after her.

*Marilyn, Amanda, and Ciara go after Taylor. Margaret then gets up and heads to the door before being stopped by Connie*

Connie: Do you want to help me with the flowers? We can finish right quick.

Margaret: Uh-Uh, Connie?

Connie: Yes?

Margaret: Read my lips: I still don’t like you, like at all.

Connie: Excuse me?

Margaret: Oh, and another thing: your flowers are hideous!

*Margaret laughs and leaves the room*

Connie: I’ve never seen a woman like her before.

*Connie starts to sing a hymn when Reverend Hathaway walks in*

Reverend Hathaway: That was beautiful.

*Connie turns and looks at Reverend Hathaway*

Connie: Oh, you must be the reverend.

Reverend Hathaway: Why, yes, I am. I’m Reverend Gabriel Hathaway.

*Connie and Reverend Hathaway shake hands*

Connie: Hi! I’m Connie Bodine. How are you?

Reverend Hathaway: Nice to meet you, Connie. I’m doing just fine. I didn’t mean to ruin your worship there.

Connie: Oh, that’s ok, Reverend.

Reverend Hathaway: Wow. I’m surprised. You still haven’t recognized me, have you?

Connie: Why, no, I haven’t.

Reverend Hathaway: You used to work at The Shady Pines Hotel.

Connie: I still do.

Reverend Hathaway: Well, I would come in every month or so occasionally and say hello sometimes.

Connie: At the hotel?

Reverend Hathaway: Yeah.

Connie: Mr.…yes, Mr. Gabriel! How have you been?

Reverend Hathaway: I’m doing real good, I can’t complain.

Connie: Well, good. Good to see you.

Reverend Hathaway: I know you haven’t seen me in a while, Connie. I’ve been here trying to keep my church running.

Connie: Oh, well this is a lovely church! It’s really nice.

Reverend Hathaway: Oh, why, thank you. So, how are you?

Connie: I’m doing fine.

Reverend Hathaway: Good. So, what brings you to my church, Connie?

Connie: Oh, I’m here meeting a side of my family I never knew.

Reverend Hathaway: Oh, really? Does your family go to my church?

Connie: Well, yes. I just found out that Alan Fallon is my father.

Reverend Hathaway (shocked): Brother Alan is your father?

Connie: Yes, he is.

Reverend Hathaway (shocked): Really?

*Connie nods her head*

Connie: Yeah.

Reverend Hathaway: You’re in my prayers.

Connie: Now, what is that supposed to mean?

Reverend Hathaway: Oh, nothing. I-I heard about the passing of your father’s father, and I’m truly sorry.

Connie: Oh, well, that’s fine. It’s just a part of life, I guess.

Reverend Hathaway: I suppose you’re right. You know, life is amazing, Connie. Because I was just thinking about you the other day.

Connie: You were thinking about me, of all people, Mr. Gabriel?

Reverend Hathaway: Why, yes, I was. I have very fond memories of you and that lovely smile and those dimples.

Connie: Oh, thank you, Mr. Gabriel, or…Reverend. I’m flattered.

Reverend Hathaway: I knew you’d be. Umm, Connie, I just ordered some lunch in my office. Would you care to join me?

Connie: Lunch?

*Reverend Hathaway nods his heads*

Reverend Hathaway: Yeah.

Connie: In your office?

Reverend Hathaway: Yeah.

Connie: Oh, sorry. I don’t do lunches in offices with reverends, like at all. I’m a saved woman, Reverend. I think you know that already. I don’t do that, and I don’t think I’m gonna be able to do that.

Reverend Hathaway: Come on, Connie. Please, sweetheart. You mean to tell me you’re too saved just to join me for a little lunch just this one time?

Connie: Oh, no, it’s not that. It’s not that at all. It’s just that…you used to come to The Shady Pines Hotel with your wife. Remember that? Remember your wife, Reverend?

Reverend Hathaway: Umm…yes I do, I-

Connie: What kind of woman do you take me for?! Do you think I’m some cheap floozy?! I don’t mess with married men! I don’t do reverends or any religious royalties! I don’t do that at all, Reverend! Where’s your wife?! Have lunch with her!

Reverend Hathaway: I wish I were able to have lunch with my wife. You see, my wife died seven months ago.

Connie: That’s what they all say.

Reverend Hathaway: Well, I don’t say anything like that, unless it’s true.

*Connie notices that Reverend Hathaway is telling the truth*

Connie: You’re telling the truth, aren’t you?

Reverend Hathaway: I am.

Connie: Oh, I’m so sorry, Reverend! I didn’t have any idea. I didn’t know.

Reverend Hathaway: Now, don’t be hard on yourself, Connie. There’s no way you could have known.

Connie: No, there isn’t any way I could have known that, but I didn’t have to talk to you that way.

Reverend Hathaway: Well, that’s quite alright. But I couldn’t dare do anything like that on my wife.

Connie: Oh, if only I knew how to zip it sometimes! Why would you want go with me, Reverend? It’s obvious that I’m mean and rude and harsh.

Reverend Hathaway: Oh, no, no, no! You’re not mean or rude or harsh. And I really don’t believe in coincidences. I believe that we’re all led into our destiny, and that the Holy Spirit led me here to you.

Connie: Really? You think so?

Reverend Hathaway: I know so. Think about it. All the hotel visits, and now you coming to my church. I could have went right out that side door to my car, but the Holy Spirit led me right this way.

Connie: He did?

Reverend Hathaway: Yes. Oh, you’re a remarkable woman, Connie. Your singing and your voice overall leaves me breathless. I love your cheery and optimistic spirit and the fact that you try your best to be a good, understanding, God fearing woman.

Connie: I’m so sorry, Reverend. It’s just that…it’s hard to believe that a man has taken an interest in me. You see, my first husband was a good man, but he died after four years of marriage. And then, sadly, my second husband was no good and cheated on me with one of his baby mamas. Now, my second marriage lasted longer, but I don’t think I was all that happy in it.

Reverend Hathaway: Well, that’s a shame. You deserve to find happiness. And I’m sorry to here about your first husband, Connie.

Connie: That’s alright, Reverend.

Reverend Hathaway: Umm, Connie, you could still take me up on my offer about lunch, you know? I’d like to sit and talk and catch up. You know you’re safe. I wouldn’t dream of doing anything bad to you. Please join me.

Connie: Well, first off, let me say I’m sorry for a few minutes ago. Maybe I was being a little too deep.

Reverend Hathaway: Oh, it’s alright. That’s quite alright.

Connie: I have to finish up in here, but I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have a little lunch with you.

Reverend Hathaway: Good. Just give me five minutes to get everything together, and I’ll come back to get you. Is that enough time?

Connie: Yes, that’s good.

Reverend Hathaway: Great.

*Reverend Hathaway leaves the room*

Margaret (outside of the room): Hey, Connie!

Connie: What is it, Miss Margaret?

Margaret (outside of the room): You know you can call me Aunt Margaret, right?!

Connie: I know, and I don’t want to.

Margaret (outside of the room): Anyways, we’re leaving!

Connie: Ok, I’ll meet you back at the house.

Margaret (outside of the room): Are you sure?!

Connie: Yes, Miss Margaret. I’ll be fine.

Margaret (outside of the room): Well, ok!

*Connie sighs and shrugs her shoulders*

Connie: Wow.

*Back at the house, Alan is shown moving the furniture back, while Marilyn, Margaret, and Taylor are in the living room*

Alan: Is this good, Marilyn?

Marilyn: Yeah, that’s just fine, Alan. That floor looks like it’s about dry now.

Alan: Well, I told you Carl mopped real good.

Marilyn: I see he did.

Margaret: Uh, Fallon?

Alan: Yeah, Margaret?

Margaret: Do my clothes look ok? Because I hate to be seen in this old thing.

Marilyn: Don’t worry, Margaret. Your little outfit covers most of it.

Margaret: Shut up, Marilyn. I know you’re just jealous.

Marilyn: Jealous of what?

Margaret: Jealous of me, your sister-in-law, of course.

Marilyn: Who’s jealous of you, you old, drunk pig in a blanket?

Alan: Now, Marilyn, leave her alone while she’s in her right mind. You look fine, Margaret.

*Amanda enters the room with a notebook and pencil in her hands*

Amanda: Now, I think we finally have all the arrangements done for the funeral.

Marilyn: Great.

Amanda: Mama, have you started dinner yet?

Marilyn: Yeah, sweetie. Things are coming along just fine in the kitchen. Supper’s almost ready.

Amanda: Perfect.

Alan: Amamu, you’re doing great. You impressing your uncle. You’re coorbinating everything.

Amanda: My name’s not Amamu. And it’s coordinating, not coorbinating.

Alan: Well, what do you got for me to do, Ashamu?

Amanda: We’ve got everything covered, Uncle Alan. You don’t need to do anything.

Alan: Are you sure?

Amanda: Positive.

Alan: Just checking. Because Pops was my own father, so I don’t mind. I have a suit he can wear for the funeral. It’s got lights all on it and little butterflies on it. We can make it look like he’s flying up to heaven, Ashamu.

Amanda: No, thank you. This is a funeral we’re talking about. If Pops wears your little suit, you’ll make him come back to life just so he can tell you to take it off. Besides, Aunt Margaret already bought Pops a suit.

Margaret: I did.

Alan: Well, ok. But nothing compares to my little light-and-butterfly suit.

Amanda: Oh, Uncle Alan. I have something for you to do.

Alan: What is it?

Amanda: Go upstairs and let my father know that supper’s almost ready.

Alan: Sure thing.

Amanda: Thank you.

Alan: You’re welcome, my coorbinating niece.

*Alan goes upstairs*

Alan (loudly): Carl!

Carl (loudly): Yeah?

Alan (loudly): Supper’s almost ready!

Carl (loudly): Ok! Don’t disturb me while I’m on the toilet!

*Alan goes back downstairs and into the living room*

Alan: Your father’s on the toilet.

Amanda: Ok.

Taylor: Do you want me to do anything, Amanda?

Amanda: Oh, no. You’re fine, Taylor.

Margaret: Say, what are we going to do with Pops? I mean, are we gonna bury him in the church cemetery or cremate him?

Marilyn: Now, Margaret, we already talked about this. Pops is gonna get buried in the Herman River.

Margaret: The Herman River? Who wants to be laying in water?

Marilyn: Pops, apparently. He always said he wanted to be buried there.

*The doorbell rings*

Alan: Somebody’s at the door.

Amanda: Well, aren’t you going to answer it?

Alan: It’s not my door, nor my house.

Amanda: With that attitude, you’ll never be ready for grandpa’s funeral.

*Amanda goes to open the door. At the door when she opens it is Reverend Hathaway and Connie. Reverend Hathaway has come to drop Connie off*

Connie: Thank you for the lunch, Reverend.

Reverend Hathaway: Please. Call me Gabriel.

Connie: Well, ok…Gabriel. See you tomorrow.

Reverend Hathaway: See you tomorrow.

*Connie enters the home, laughing and giggling and closes the door behind her*

Alan: Connie Marie Bodine, where have you been?

*Connie takes a seat on the couch next to Margaret*

Connie: Oh, I went out to lunch with an old friend, daddy.

Alan: With a man?

Connie (sarcastically): No, daddy. With a Venus fly trap. Anyways, me and my old friend, who happens to be a man, were just getting caught up.

Alan: Well, then, you’re going to hell, missy.

Connie (confused): For talking to a man?

Alan: No. For lying to your father. That wasn’t no old friend. That was Reverend Hathaway.

*Connie nods her head*

Connie: Well, yeah, I know. Reverend Hathaway’s an old friend of mine.

Alan: Connie, you can’t get caught up with Reverend Hathaway. You’re being…fast.

Connie: Fast?

*Alan nods his head*

Alan: Yeah. Come see.

*Alan brings Connie to the corner of the room with him and sits to the kitchen table*

Connie: What? What is it?

Alan: Connie, listen up. You can’t be getting caught up with a man who was born a male. That makes you fast.

Connie: I wasn’t being fast.

Alan: That’s what you think. Connie, we need to have a father-daughter talk. Sit on my lap, and let me talk to you.

Connie: Sit on your lap?

*Alan nods his head*

Alan: Yeah. You’re never too old to sit on your father’s lap. Just as long as you don’t do no funny business.

Connie: Are you sure?

Alan: Of course I’m sure. If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t have told you to sit on my lap.

Connie: Well, ok.

*Connie sits on her father’s lap*

Connie: Now, I don’t see what’s so wrong about having a little lunch with an old friend. I mean-

Alan (in pain): Ok, nevermind. You’re hurting me. Get off!

*Connie immediately gets up*

Alan: But, anyways, Connie, do you know about the birds and the bees?

Connie: Well, of course I do! I have three children!

Alan: Well, we’re gonna have to go another route. Umm, Connie, a wise philosopher once said, “A man can’t carry an overweight woman that’s 6’1”.

Connie (confused): Well, what is that supposed to mean?

Alan: Beats the hell out of me. You know what? I don’t think a wise philosopher once said that. I think I said that about your mother.

*Connie nods her head*

Connie: Oh, ok.

Alan: But anyways, Connie, I forbid you to do lunches with Reverend Hathaway.

Connie: And what are you gonna do if I don’t obey you?

Alan: I’m gonna elope with your mama and we’ll move to England, and then there, I’ll be known as Chicargo.

*Connie scoffs*

Alan: Well, scoff, if you must, but we might even have another love child.

*Connie crosses over to the living room and sits back down on the couch*

Margaret: So, Connie, who was that you went to lunch with?

Connie: I went to lunch with the reverend.

Margaret: What?

Connie: I said I went to lunch with the reverend.

Amanda: Now, Aunt Margaret, before you lose your temper behind some Tom foolery-

Margaret (angrily): Now, just what were you doing with my Reverend Hathaway, niece?

Connie: I wasn’t doing anything with him, Aunt Margaret. And he’s not your Reverend Hathaway. You’re not his owner.

Margaret: Well, we’ll just see about that.

Connie: And besides, he invited me to lunch.

Margaret: Well, that poor man must be blind, crippled, and crazy.

Marilyn: Margaret!

Margaret: Connie, how long were you with Reverend Hathaway? It looks like you’ve been eating lunch for years.

Connie: Look, quit harassing me before I go through my purse again.

Margaret: Please don’t hurt me, baby.

Marilyn: Hurt her. Just take her outside this time. All she’ll get is a Band-Aid anyways.

*Connie’s cellphone rings and she quickly answers it*

Connie (on the phone): Hello? Oh, my god!

Alan: Who is it?

Connie (on the phone): It’s my mother! She’s on a high speed chase!

Alan: What?

*Alan walks into the living room*

Amanda: Mother, can I watch some TV?

Marilyn: Of course, sweetie. Go ahead.

*Amanda picks up the remote and turns on the TV*

Amanda (shocked): Oh, my goodness!

*Marilyn, Alan, Margaret, and Taylor look at the TV*

Margaret: Is that Thelma on the news?

Marilyn: It looks like it.

*Connie looks at the TV*

Connie (on the phone): Oh, my god! That is her.

Taylor (confused): Who’s Thelma?

Alan: That’s the giant buffalo on the TV.

Connie (on the phone): Dad, hush up! I was talking to daddy, mama. You don’t know who my father is? Oh, you were just joking. Well, this is no laughing matter. You’re on the news. Yeah, yeah, you are. I’m not bailing you out if they get you. Those days are over. I’m not doing that anymore.

Alan: Connie, tell your mother that if it’s any constipation, I love her.

Connie (on the phone): Mama, daddy says that if it’s any constipation-I mean consolation, he loves you. Mama, just pull over! You can’t outrun the cops!

*Carl comes downstairs and walks into the living room, with his eyes glued to the TV*

Carl: Fallon, is that your busty baby mama on the news?

Marilyn: Carl, stop that!

Alan: Yes, it is, Carl.

Connie (on the phone): Just know that I love you, mother, and I always will. Alrighty. Bye, bye.

*Connie hangs up*

Connie: I can’t believe my mother’s on the news.

*Alan hands Connie $10*

Connie: Well, what is this for? To bail my mama out?

Alan: No, it’s for back child support.

*Connie sucks her teeth in aggravation*

Connie: You’re not helping, daddy!

Alan: I do owe you.

*Later, The Fallons are shown eating dinner at the dinner table*

Alan: Well, supper is delicious. It’s way better than what Ciara could ever cook.

Jake: Uncle Alan, could you not insult my wife’s cooking? It’s the same thing, every time we come here. She can’t cook, she can’t cook. Who cares if she can’t cook? She has everything else that I need, and I love her for that.

Alan (mockingly): Well, after a while you’re gonna need more. All those other things are gonna start to fizzle out. And what are you gonna do then? Hi, welcome to McDonald’s. May I take your order, please?

Jake: We’d never go to McDonald’s. Burger King is better.

Ciara: Both are unhealthy. How about I make some smothered wheatgrass soup when we get home, huh, honey?

Carl: Now, that’s exactly why Jake’s so skinny now. You feed him all that crap, and it messes up his body.

Margaret: Yeah. My little Jakey needs more home cooked meals and less crap.

Ciara: All those home cooked meals are killers.

*Alan clears his throat*

Alan: Excuse me, excuse me. But can I tell ya’ll a story? I wanna tell ya’ll a story about Pops.

Carl: Sure, Fallon. Go ahead.

Marilyn: Yeah. Tell the story.

Alan: Well, ok. Thank you. Umm, I think it was December 19th, 1963, and it was real early in the morning. I remember it like it was yesterday. I remember it being real cold outside, and daddy took us kids swimming at the Ray Lake. Carl, Margaret, do y’all remember that?

Carl: I remember that.

Margaret: Well, I don’t.

Carl: Well, you was only ‘bout three or two years old.

Alan: Yeah, but anyways, daddy put us in his truck while we was sleeping, and he drove out to Ray Lake. And when he got there, he woke us up, yanked us out of the truck, put us in the water, and said, “Children, today ya’ll are gonna learn how to swim.” And me, looking down at that cold water, I said, “I ain’t swimming in here. Now get me out.” And then daddy, with his little stern voice, he said, “Alan, you are a fibber. Now, you are going to swim this morning. And ya’ll can choose for y’all selves. It’s either sink or swim.” Well, I sunk.

*Everyone starts laughing*

Alan: I couldn’t do it. I just couldn’t.

Margaret: That was a great story, Alan. But I can’t seem to get my mind off of Taylor.

Marilyn: Now, Margaret, don’t start.

Margaret: I’m just curious. Does anyone else at this table want to know why Taylor Kane’s here?

Amanda: Aunt Margaret-

Margaret: Aunt Margaret, nothing. I want to know why she’s here.

Ciara: Jake, stop your mother. She’s making a fool of herself.

Margaret: I’m ok. I’m not making no fool of myself, baby. Like I said, I’d just like to know why she’s here! Every time I bring this up, y’all try ya’ll’s best to avoid the subject!

Jake: Now, mom-

Margaret: No, no, no, no, no! Like I was saying, why are you here, Taylor?

Taylor: Well, your brother, Carl invited me here.

Margaret: Why did you invite her, Carl?

Carl: Tell her why I invited you, Taylor.

Taylor: Well, apparently, Curtis Fallon, known to you all as Pops…was my father.

Margaret (shocked): What?

Alan: Apparently, nothing. You’re lying.

Margaret: Yeah, she’s got to be lying. I can tell she is.

Taylor: Well, my mom told me that Pops was my father.

Margaret: And who’s your mama?

Taylor: Her name’s Veronica Kane.

Margaret: I’ve never heard of a Veronica Kane. Who’s that? I don’t believe you.

Carl: Actually, she’s not lying. When Pops first got sick, he started telling me all of his secrets, and one of them was Taylor.

Marilyn: Carl, Pops told you about Taylor?

Carl: Yes. Taylor and her mother. You see, when Pops was living in Los Angeles, he met Taylor’s mother, and she became the love of his life.

Alan: So, basically, Taylor’s our sister?

Carl: Yep.

Margaret: Wait a minute. I don’t think so. What are you trying to say, Carl?

Carl: Well, let me put it this way. Veronica was definitely our father’s backdoor slut.

Margaret: Uh-uh. Our father dated nice, Christian women. What about Marvelous Minnie?

Carl: Oh, she was one of his sluts.

Margaret (under her breath): Oh…sluts.

Alan: Well, what about Miss Hortense?

Margaret: Yeah, she was a good woman.

Carl: Freaky slut.

Margaret: What about Miss Ruth?

Carl: Sophisticated slut.

Alan: Miss Mildred?

Carl: Dumb slut.

Margaret: Miss Dani Lee?

Carl: Chinese slut.

Margaret: What about Miss Louise?

Carl: African-American slut.

Margaret: Miss Teenie?

Carl: Hispanic slut.

Jake: What about Miss Jackie?

Carl: Middle-aged slut.

Margaret: Wait a minute. What about Miss Effie? Remember she used to bake us the cutest and tastiest little cupcakes? Please tell me Effie wasn’t no slut, god rest her soul. What about Effie?

Carl: Baking slut.

*Margaret gasps*

Alan: What about our mama?

*Carl remains silent*

Marilyn: Carl?

Carl: Gullible slut.

Margaret: Hell no!

*Margaret starts crying*

Connie: That’s your mama, dad!

Alan: I know!

Margaret: This is blasphemy, at the dinner table! And over poor, deceased Pops! Why is this happening to me?!

*It is the day of the funeral. Everyone is shown dressed, except for Alan and Connie, as they’re not in the room*

Carl (impatiently): Fallon. I’m not about to wait all day on you! Now, come on in here!

Alan (O.S.): I’m coming, I’m coming! Just hold your homos! I’m coming!

Carl: It’s hold your horses, Fallon, not homos.

Marilyn: What is taking him so long?

Margaret: I don’t know, but my beers are getting hot.

*Margaret pulls out three beer cans from out of her purse, opens them, and gulps all three of them down at once*

Jake: Mom, what’s wrong with you?! You’re gonna kill yourself!

Marilyn: Just let her kill herself. We’ll bury her under those same beer cans. Let her keep on.

*Alan enters the room wearing a robe and sits in one of the armchairs*

Carl: Fallon, why are you still in your robe? You need to get ready.

Alan: Carl, will you quit giving me the rush act? I’ll get ready when I get ready.

*The doorbell rings*

Marilyn: Come on in!

*Reverend Hathaway and Connie enter the home*

Reverend Hathaway: Good morning, everyone.

Marilyn: Good morning, Reverend Hathaway.

Reverend Hathaway: Good morning, Sister Marilyn.

Margaret (flirtatious): Good morning, Reverend Hathaway.

Reverend Hathaway: Good morning.

Margaret (flirtatious): Reverend, do you want to make my good morning a great morning?

Reverend Hathaway (confused): What?

Connie: It’s nothing. Don’t pay any attention to her. But anyways, I had a wonderful time, Gabriel.

Reverend Hathaway: I was hoping you would.

Alan: Now, wait a minute. What’s all this reverend talk for? What did ya’ll go do that was so…wonderful?

Connie: Actually, dad, we went for a walk.

Alan: Oh, really? A walk?

*Connie nods her head*

Connie: Yes. A walk.

Alan: Well, if you two keep it up with all those walks, someone named Connie Marie Bodine is gonna come back with a baby.

*Reverend Hathaway laughs*

Reverend Hathaway: You are so funny, Brother Alan.

*Alan pretends to laugh*

Alan: Well, that’s strange, because I don’t think I’m funny.

Margaret: I don’t think he’s funny, either. And why are you going on walks with my man, Connie?

Connie: First of all, he-isn’t-your-man, Miss Margaret.

Margaret: The-hell-he-isn’t. Ok?

Amanda: Aunt Margaret, today is Pops’ funeral, so please, pull yourself together.

Margaret: This must be some joke. Because I know that my niece is not walking with Reverend Hathaway.

*Margaret takes a deep sigh*

Margaret: Connie, sweetie. May I tell you something?

Connie: What is it?

Margaret: You’re going to hell.

Alan: That’s what I said, too. I told her that!

Connie: Now, Miss Margaret, how am I going to where you vacation?

*Marilyn laughs*

Marilyn: That was a good one, Connie!

Ciara: That was. I’m sorry, Miss Margaret.

Margaret: Well, Connie. Let’s check into this. Let’s dive into this one, shall we? You see, Connie, the lord almighty spoke to me and he told me that Reverend Hathaway was gonna be my husband. So, with that being said, Connie, you are interfering with the work of the most high. And therefore, you are going straight to hell.

Connie (confused): Huh?

Reverend Hathaway: Well, that’s funny, Sister Margaret, because I had a real good talk with the lord myself. And he didn’t tell me anything about your sad delusions of romance.

*Connie laughs*

Connie: Gabriel, would you like to go into the kitchen and talk?

Reverend Hathaway: Sure.

Alan: Ya’ll better be talking with food in ya’ll’s mouths, because my daughter is a good woman of the lord. Y’all don’t know. All that lovey dovey stuff is making my blood pressure rise up to the roof. I’m about to turn into your mother, Connie. Yes, indeed. I’m gonna start carrying knives, guns, belts, irons, hammers, baseball bats, and everything else with me everywhere I go.

Margaret: Connie, I just love them little shoes you got on, niece. They look nice.

Connie: Why, thank you, Aunt Margaret.

*Connie and Reverend Hathaway go into the kitchen*

Margaret: Mm-hmm. I hope you fall and break your neck in ‘em, you man-hogging polar bear.

Marilyn: Now, Margaret!

Carl: Margaret, shut your mouth.

Marilyn: Carl’s right. If you can’t say nothing nice, then don’t say nothing at all.

Carl: Uh, about turning into Connie’s mother, Fallon, how did you find out that you was Connie’s father in the first place? I’m just curious.

Alan: Well, uh, remember when I told you about my class reunion that I ended up going to last year, Carl?

*Carl nods his head*

Carl: Yeah.

Alan: Well, somehow, Thelma spiked the punch there, and I ended up drinking some, and I got drunk, and ended up reminding Thelma and myself, while being drunk, may I remind you, of our magical, splendid, and long night after prom.

*Carl shakes his head*

Carl: That’s absolutely nasty.

Amanda: I know, right? That old woman’s got the strength of any man, so basically Uncle Alan made love to a hurricane.

Carl: A tall, fat, repulsive stripper of a hurricane.

Marilyn: Now, alright, ya’ll! I’m tired of hearing about my brother-in-law and his sexual escapades with Thelma…the law breaker.

*Alan gets up*

Alan: That’s right. Now y’all done made me forget someone else outside with all that talk about Thelma. I don’t wanna talk about her.

Carl: Who did you forget this time, Alan?

*Alan goes outside to get someone and returns seconds later with a Pringles can in his hand*

Carl (confused): Fallon, I don’t see anyone.

Marilyn: Me either.

Alan: Of course you see somebody standing here. Don’t act like you don’t see nobody. Don’t be like that in front of company.

Carl: Now, Fallon, be honest. Did your having sex with hippopotamus Thelma mess up your brain?

Alan: Well, yeah, it did. How did you know?

Carl: Believe me, brother. It’s obvious.

Alan: Anyways, that don’t excuse the fact that we got company. Say hello.

Carl (confused): To who, Fallon? Thin air? I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about.

Alan: I’m talking about my wife, Dorothy.

Carl (confused): Alan, Dorothy’s been dead for over a year.

Alan: I know that! But that don’t mean you can’t say hey to her.

*Alan shakes the Pringles can*

Alan: Speak to Dorothy.

Carl (confused): Dorothy’s a Pringle can? Why? And how?

Alan: No, silly! Dorothy’s in this can! These her ashes!

Carl: Her ashes are in there?

*Alan nods his head*

Alan: Yeah. I got Dorothy animated, real nice and thing, the ashes was scattered everywhere, and then after her animation, I slipped her in this Pringles can.

Carl: Now, Fallon, half of the time, I’m actually able to understand what you saying. But I’m lost. I’m just…very lost.

Alan: Well, what’s there to be lost about? I got Dorothy animated and then, I got her put in this Pringles can. Duh. Are you dumb?

Jake: Wait a minute, Uncle Alan. Are you trying to say cremated?

*Alan nods his head*

Alan: Yeah, that too.

Carl: So, let me get this straight. You got Dorothy cremated, and then afterwards, you put her ashes in a Pringles can?

Alan: Oh, yeah. It’s what Dorothy would have wanted.

*Carl shakes his head*

Carl: No. She would have wanted to be put in a urn.

*Connie and Reverend Hathaway are still talking in the kitchen*

Reverend Hathaway: Connie, I notice that you still haven’t said yes to Chicago. Remember I brought it up while we were walking?

Connie: Yes, I do remember. Umm, Gabriel, look. I like you. I like you a lot, actually. But I’m gonna have to say no. I hope you understand.

Reverend Hathaway: Only if you do.

Connie: It feels like we’re rushing into this, if that makes any sense. Look, how about we take things slow? Like you’ll come see me and I’ll come see you, and we’ll see what happens from there. How does that sound?

Reverend Hathaway: Ok, but I really believe it’s God’s will for us to be together. I do.

Connie: Well, if it’s God’s will, then it’ll happen when it happens, right?

Reverend Hathaway: I suppose you’re right. But Connie Marie Bodine, you are my future wife. I just know you are.

Alan (listening in on the conservation): Uh, what did you say there, sonny boy?

Reverend Hathaway (nervous): Oh, nothing, Brother Alan. Nothing that concerns you.

Alan: Well, ok. Just checking. Because I can bail your future wife’s mama out right now and all hell’ll break loose. I got time before the funeral.

Carl: No, you don’t.

Reverend Hathaway: But anyways, like I was saying, Connie, I think we have a future together. You may not think so, but if you just trust God, I’m sure you’ll change your mind. I mean, he showed me the vision, and I just pray that he reveal it to you, as well.

Connie: Well, I’ll pray and ask God. And I’m hoping that he’ll show me.

Reverend Hathaway: Great. Well, as soon as I get back from my trip to Chicago, I’ll call you, and I’ll visit you every day.

Alan (listening in on the conversation): Oh, you don’t have to go out of your way to do nothing special, Reverend Hathaway.

Connie: Daddy! Quit eavesdropping! I’m sorry for my father, Gabriel.

Reverend Hathaway: That’s quite alright, Connie. I have a mother just like Brother Alan.

Connie: Well, I’m sorry to hear that. But anyways, I’ll be waiting for your calls.

Reverend Hathaway: Please do. I promise to send you at least 11 roses each and every day until the good lord reveals to you who I really am, Connie.

Connie: Well, why 11 roses?

Reverend Hathaway: Because, you’re the 12th, Connie. You’re the 12th.

*Reverend Hathaway kisses Connie on the lips*

Margaret: Oh, no! Go get ‘em, Fallon!

*Alan breaks up Reverend Hathaway and Connie by opening the Pringles can and pouring the ashes inside on the reverend*

Reverend Hathaway (furious): Brother Alan, what are you doing?!

Alan (angrily): Dorothy didn’t like what you was doing! That’s what you get for sensually harassing my baby girl! Now, go get a room! And not here!

Connie (angrily): First of all, daddy, it’s sexually harassing, not sensually! And I’m not your baby girl! I’m a grown woman, and I can do anything I please!

*The Fallons are later shown at the funeral with the rest of the mourners. However, Alan is noticeably absent from the room. Margaret and Jake are up at Pops’ casket while the choir is singing*

Margaret (emotionally): Daddy! Please don’t leave me, daddy! I love you! You can’t be gone! I can’t eat, I can’t sleep without you! I still hear your voice from time to time! Daddy, come on back! Come back to me! Oh!

*Margaret faints and Jake immediately picks her up and brings her back to her seat*

Connie (worried): Is she ok?

Carl: Oh, yeah. Don’t worry about her. She’s just being stupid, like she is.

Marilyn: Well, she ain’t fainted since she fell off that ride at Disney World and her little blonde wig went flying.

*Margaret wakes up*

Margaret: I’m ok. I just had a…vision there. I’ll be alright.

*Margaret pulls out a bottle of vodka from her purse and drinks straight from it. Carl shakes his head in embarrassment*

Jake: Mom, please stop.

*Margaret finishes off the bottle*

Margaret: Ok. I’ll stop.

*Margaret laughs and puts the bottle back in her purse*

Ciara: Miss Margaret, you know all that drinking isn’t good.

Margaret: It ain’t good for you, sweetie. Because they’re my drinks.

*Margaret laughs and Ciara rolls her eyes and shakes her head*

Ciara: Whatever.

*Seconds later, Alan enters the room wearing a toupee and takes a seat in the front pew with Margaret, Jake, Ciara, Carl, Marilyn, and Connie. Immediately, the family becomes embarrassed at the sight of him*

Carl: Good grief! What the hell does Fallon have on his head?

Amanda: It looks like he shaved his chest hairs and put them on his head.

*The singing from the choir stops and Reverend Hathaway gets up and stands before the church to begin his eulogy*

Alan: What is he doing? He’s boring everybody.

Marilyn: I believe you’re the only who’s bored, now hush up.

*Alan goes up and interrupts Reverend Hathaway’s eulogy*

Alan: Psst! Reverend Hathaway!

*Reverend Hathaway stops his eulogy to answer Alan*

Reverend Hathaway: What do you want, Brother Alan? I’m giving a eulogy here.

Alan: Well, you shouldn’t be giving no eulogy. It’s dull, and dry. Put me on the program. I’ll liven things up.

Reverend Hathaway: No. Now please have a seat.

Alan: Please. Pretty please. It’s alright. Just put me on the program.

Reverend Hathaway (now irritated): I said no. Now go sit down.

Alan: Just put me on the program. Pops was my own daddy. Besides, you boring everybody anyways. Look at my daddy. Even poor Pops bored.

Reverend Hathaway (irritated): Brother Alan, your father’s dead. Now go sit.

Alan: Look, just put me on the program. Go do it. Go put me on the program.

*Reverend Hathaway takes a deep sigh of irritation*

Reverend Hathaway: Umm, everyone, I have more to say, but it looks as though we have a special tribute from our very own Brother Alan, the son of Curtis Fallon. Come on up and say a few words.

Margaret: Go on, Fallon.

Alan (pretending to be surprised): Who, little old me? Why, wow. I’m stunned.

*Reverend Hathaway sits and lets Alan stand in front of the church to give his little tribute*

Alan (pretending to be surprised): Wow, I don’t know who voted for me to say something. But it looks like I got ejected to be president of the…church speaking.

*Alan laughs and pats down on the microphone*

Alan: Is this thing on?

Everyone (in unison): Yeah.

Alan: I say, is this thing on?

Everyone (in unison): Yeah.

Alan: Well, in that case, let the church say amen.

Everyone (in unison): Amen.

Alan: Let the church say amen again.

Everyone (in unison): Amen again.

Alan: Great. Well, I’m gonna miss my daddy. But it’s not the time but the dime that tells you when to miss your parent.

Carl: What in hell is he talking about?

*Marilyn shrugs her shoulders*

Marilyn: I have no idea.

Alan: I want y’all to know that daddy died a happy man. Because he knew that he was going to get to flap his wings all the way to heaven. Speaking of daddy, let’s talk about him. Can I talk about Pops?

Everyone (in unison): Yes.

Alan: Well, one reason I miss Pops is because he was oh, so wise. There are even times that I’ll miss the way he used to blacken my eyes. And though we’ll be far, far apart, he’ll always be in me, his son’s heart.

*Ten minutes later*

Alan: Bye bye, daddy!

*Ten minutes later*

Alan: Hello, daddy!

*Twenty minutes later*

Alan: But, bye bye, daddy!

Carl: Marilyn, I’m telling you, all of this caterwauling and crying from Fallon is ruining my father’s funeral.

Marilyn: It’s ok, honey. He can’t be up there for much longer.

*Five minutes later*

Alan: I want ya’ll to know that this ain’t no ordinary funeral! This is a celebration of life! So we’re gonna celebrate, in honor of Pops!

Carl: I’m about to choke that fool to sleep.

Marilyn: Calm down, Carl. Please don’t do anything that you’ll regret.

*Five minutes later, Margaret is shown joining Alan to sing “When the Saints Go Marching In” with him*

Alan and Margaret (singing, in unison): When the saints go marching in!

Margaret: Come on, ya’ll. Wave ya’ll’s hands for us.

*Everyone waves their hands*

Alan and Margaret (singing, in unison): Oh, when the saints go marching in! Go marching in! Go marching in! Oh, when the saints go marching in! Oh, how I want to be in that number when the saints go marching in! Oh, when the saints go marching in! When the saints go marching in!

Margaret: Take it from here, Fallon!

*Margaret goes to sit back down*

Alan (singing): Oh, when the saints go marching in, do you wanna be?! Do you wanna be…in that number?! Do you really, really, really, really wanna be in that number?! Do you wanna be in the num-buh-buh?! Do you wanna be in the number?! Do you wanna be in the number when they go, go, go, go, go marching, marching, marching, march-marching, marching marching, marching in?!

*Alan stops singing*

Alan: Yes, lord! When the saints go marching in. I’m gonna preach off of that. Let me tell you about some saints. I’m a saint! My brother, Carl’s a saint! My nephew, Jake’s a saint! Brother Harry’s a saint! Brother Grover’s a saint! Brother Harpo’s a saint! Brother Edmond’s a saint! All the men in here are saints! We’re surrounded by saints! But mostly importantly, my daddy was a saint! Yes, he was. You know what? We need more saints! We need more superheroes! That’s what we need! We need more God-fearing superheroes that’ll stand up for the lord!

Carl: I wish he’d shut up for the lord. It don’t take nobody this long to bury someone in the Herman River.

*Ten minutes later, Alan is shown being up at Pops’ casket*

Alan: Connie, come here.

Connie: What?

Alan: I say come here. Say hello to your grandfather with me. Come on. It’s ok. He don’t bite.

*Connie goes up to Pops’ casket*

Alan: Connie, this is your grandfather right here. You miss him?

Connie: Well, I never met him, daddy.

Alan: Well, let me introduce you to Pops. Let me introduce you to your grandfather. Connie, this is your grandfather. Connie’s grandfather, this is Connie. Connie, can I tell you something?

Connie: What is it?

Alan (singing): This is Pops! This is Pop-Pops! This our Pops, your Pops, and your grandfather, and everyone’s friend!

*Alan starts sobbing*

Alan: Reverend Hathaway, get over here with me and my daughter.

*Reverend Hathaway goes up to Pops’ casket*

Alan: If you want to be with my daughter, Reverend, you gotta get your mind right first. Because Connie’s a good woman with principles. She ain’t about to become First Lady of the Reverend States.

Reverend Hathaway: Ok, Brother Alan.

Alan: You also gotta ask Pops if it’s ok to get with my daughter. So, go and ask him.

Reverend Hathaway: What?

Alan: Go and ask Pops if it’s ok. Say, “Pops, can I have your granddaughter?”

Reverend Hathaway: Uh, Pops, can I have your granddaughter?

Alan (imitating Pops): Heck no! Now go away before I burn you with my cigarette, you praying peckerwood!

*Ten minutes later, Alan is shown continuing his tribute*

Alan: I couldn’t quite catch the rhythm of the stroke! Why is it that I felt that I might choke?!

*Thirty minutes later*

Alan: So, you see, that’s the kind of man my father, known as Pops was.

Reverend Hathaway: Are you finished, Brother Alan?

*Alan nods his head*

Alan: Yeah.

*Alan goes to sit back down and lets Reverend Hathaway stand before the church again*

Reverend Hathaway: Wow, that was a moving-

*Carl stands up*

Carl: Mess! That’s what it was! A hot f*cking moving mess!

*Carl storms off*

Marilyn: Carl!

*Marilyn gets up*

Marilyn: Carl!

*Marilyn goes after Carl. Later, the family is shown at the Herman River, in a boat, feeling sad as Pops’ casket is shamelessly tossed into the water*

Margaret (emotional): Lord, why?! Why is my daddy departing me so soon?! Tell me why!

Carl: Marilyn, hold me back. ‘Cause I got a feeling I’m gonna have to hurt Margaret.

Marilyn: Go easy on her, Carl. Go easy on her.

Margaret (emotional): I wanna sing a little song to you daddy! Hold on.

*Margaret clears her throat*

Margaret (under her breath): Maybe I should stop all that drinking and smoking. Ok, here it goes, daddy!

*Margaret sobs*

Margaret (singing): Silent night, holy night! All is calm, all is bright.

Carl: Except for her. She ain’t too bright.

Margaret (singing): Round yon Virgin, Mother and Child. Holy infant so tender and mild, sleep in heavenly peace! Sleep in heavenly peace!

Carl: Marilyn, Margaret’s really getting to me.

Margaret (emotional): Oh, Pops! They didn’t have to take you away from us! They didn’t have to take you away from me! Just say hello to mama and tell her that I said I love her!

Carl: Now, Margaret-

Margaret (singing): Silent night, holy night!

*Carl gets up and puts his hand on Margaret’s shoulder*

Margaret (singing): Shepherds quake at the sight. Glories stream from Heaven afar. Heavenly hosts sing Alleluia. Christ the Savior is-

*Margaret screams as Carl pushes her into the water. The rest of the family immediately gets up*

Jake: What’s your issue, Uncle Carl?! That’s my mother, and your sister! Hold on, mom! I’m coming!

*Jake jumps into the water after his mother*

Alan: Carl, what’s wrong with you?! Pushing Margaret in that water.

Carl: I don’t see why you complaining. You can go in there with Margaret. They got lots of room in that water for you too, you know.

Alan (nervous): I’ll wait.

*Alan has a seat. Later on, The Fallons are shown returning home. Margaret and Jake are noticeably wet*

Margaret (upset): I’m sick of this double standard! I’m the youngest of Pops’ children and I deserve a little respect! Carl pushed me in that damn water!

Carl: That’s right, and I’ll do it again. And you are not the youngest of Pops’ children. You’re forgetting Taylor.

Margaret (upset): I don’t care! I hate you!

Carl: Great, ‘cause I hate your alcoholic ass too.

Marilyn: That’s enough, you too.

Alan: Does anybody but me feel bad about that cheap pine box we sent daddy off in?

*Ciara shrugs her shoulders*

Ciara: At least it was painted green, white and blue.

*Jake nods his head*

Jake: Yeah.

Taylor: Well, it was nice meeting everyone, but I gotta get doing. Like as soon as possible.

Marilyn: Wait a minute. You’re not gonna stay on for the reading of the will?

Taylor: No. I don’t really care about that will, I’ll just go on and catch the bus.

Carl: Well, you can’t catch no bus, because the bus only comes every three days.

Taylor: What?

Marilyn: Yeah, that’s right! It’ll be here tomorrow, though, Taylor.

Taylor: Well, that’s just great! Just great!

Margaret: Are you angry, Taylor? Just go hitchhike.

Carl: Hush your mouth, Margaret.

Margaret: No, I will not hush my mouth, Carl. And why should I?

Carl: Because you’re acting like a damn fool. I’m sick of you and your disgusting behavior. You should be ashamed of yourself, Margaret. I know that Pops would be ashamed of you. You didn’t do a damn thing for daddy, and now you’re carrying on as if you worked so hard to keep him on this Earth.

Margaret: Now, just wait a minute. How are you gonna say that I ain’t done nothing for Pops? Huh? Huh? He was my daddy!

Carl: True, and in a minute, you’ll say that it was my foot that went up your butt.

*Carl begins to approach Margaret before being stopped by Marilyn and Alan*

Marilyn: Carl! Mind your manners!

Alan: Yeah! You should know better than that!

Carl: Oh, yeah? Well you should’ve known better than to ruin my father’s funeral.

Alan: Pops wasn’t your father. He was our father.

Carl: You don’t think I know that? And you didn’t do nothing for the man either.

Alan: I did a lot for daddy.

Carl: The hell you did! Ya’ll couldn’t even send me and Marilyn $5 in food stamps to feed Pops. But now ya’ll are acting all sad and foolish and ignorant.

Marilyn: Carl, just stop this! Please, I’m begging you!

Carl: No, Marilyn. They need to hear this.

Connie: Now, just wait a minute, everybody. I don’t think Pops would like the idea of ya’ll arguing over him.

Alan: Thank you, Connie.

Carl: Oh, shut up, you old jackass.

Alan: What?

Carl: You heard what I said!

Alan: No, I don’t think I did.

*Alan takes off his toupee*

Alan: Here, Connie.

*Alan hands Connie his toupee*

Alan: Hold my toupee.

Carl: What are you gonna do, huh, scaredy cat?

Alan: I’m about to send you to go see Pops if you don’t stop me.

*Carl approaches Alan and slaps him*

Carl: Wake up.

*Alan slaps Carl*

Alan: No, you wake up.

*Carl and Alan begin to fight before being stopped by Marilyn, Jake, Ciara, Connie, and Amanda*

Marilyn: Now, break it up, guys! I’m plain tired of this!

Amanda: Mom’s right.

Carl and Alan (in unison): She’s wrong.

Connie: No, I think Miss Marilyn’s right as well. I mean, how are you guys gonna disrespect your father like this?

Ciara: That’s right.

Margaret: You know, you two better learn how to behave.

Carl: Oh, you a fine one to talk. All you ever do is drink and insult people.

Margaret: That’s a total lie! I also smoke from time to time as well.

Connie: That’s enough! And yes, I’m talking to you, daddy, and yes, I’m talking to you, Uncle Alan, and yes, I’m talking to you, Miss Margaret. I’m talking to all three of you. We just came back from a funeral. Now how are ya’ll gonna disrespect ya’ll’s father this way? What’s wrong with you guys?

Alan: Nothing’s wrong with us.

Connie: Yeah, something’s wrong. Now, I want all of ya’ll to get together and tell each other that y’all sorry. The three of ya’ll are way too old for that nonsense.

*Carl, Alan, and Margaret sigh and come together to tell each other sorry*

Carl, Alan, and Margaret (in unison): I’m sorry.

*Everyone then comes together for a big group hug*


THE END…

[Wawwie]

Okay, I'm up to the part where Amanda tells her mom that she called uncle Alan. I LOL'ed when she talked about how she fell asleep while on the phone and when she woke up, he was still flapping his gums! I also LOL'ed big time when the dirty old dad was making sexy talk with his wife, also LOL'ed when Amanda was talking about him crying, then farting, crying, then farting.

The writing is excellent, buddy! So far, I'm enjoying this even more than Livin' the Life. I do love that one too though. You are very talented! Great work so far. I have to clean up the breakfast area, will read more later.

[TVLegend]

Originally Posted by Wawwie

Okay, I'm up to the part where Amanda tells her mom that she called uncle Alan. I LOL'ed when she talked about how she fell asleep while on the phone and when she woke up, he was still flapping his gums! I also LOL'ed big time when the dirty old dad was making sexy talk with his wife, also LOL'ed when Amanda was talking about him crying, then farting, crying, then farting.

The writing is excellent, buddy! So far, I'm enjoying this even more than Livin' the Life. I do love that one too though. You are very talented! Great work so far. I have to clean up the breakfast area, will read more later.

Great, I’m glad you enjoyed it. Once you read all of what I have so far, I bet you’ll be waiting on me to finish it up.

[Wawwie]

LOL @ the Wawwie (Margaret) character is a mentally deranged drunk who didn't learn how to use the toilet until age 7!

I loved, loved, loved this story! Very good! Keep up the excellent writing! I'm so looking forward to the next segment.

P.S. I LOL'ed when Thelma was being described as a tree. Thelma is really a piece of work not telling Alan or Connie that they are father and daughter for over 40 years. Another great mom is "Margaret" with how she was drunk until the very moment that Jake was born. That's two terrible moms!

[TVLegend]

Originally Posted by Wawwie

LOL @ the Wawwie (Margaret) character is a mentally deranged drunk who didn't learn how to use the toilet until age 7!

I loved, loved, loved this story! Very good! Keep up the excellent writing! I'm so looking forward to the next segment.

P.S. I LOL'ed when Thelma was being described as a tree. Thelma is really a piece of work not telling Alan or Connie that they are father and daughter for over 40 years. Another great mom is "Margaret" with how she was drunk until the very moment that Jake was born. That's two terrible moms!

Margaret’s drinking is exactly why Jake ended up with such a big head.

How did you like the parts where Connie pulls out a knife after Margaret insults her weight and the family tries to stop Ciara from cooking?

[Wawwie]

Originally Posted by TVLegend

Margaret’s drinking is exactly why Jake ended up with such a big head.

How did you like the parts where Connie pulls out a knife after Margaret insults her weight and the family tries to stop Ciara from cooking?

I liked how everyone said in unison: "Ciara..... can't cook."
When Connie pulled a knife on Margaret, I'm surprised Margaret didn't threaten to call the cops! Seriously though, Margaret really seems like a handful and very difficult to deal with!

[TVLegend]

Originally Posted by Wawwie

I liked how everyone said in unison: "Ciara..... can't cook."
When Connie pulled a knife on Margaret, I'm surprised Margaret didn't threaten to call the cops! Seriously though, Margaret really seems like a handful and very difficult to deal with!

I’m working on the next segment as we speak. If you want me to, I’ll P.M. you when I’m done with the whole thing.

What did you think about Margaret wanting Reverend Hathaway?

[Wawwie]

Originally Posted by TVLegend

I’m working on the next segment as we speak. If you want me to, I’ll P.M. you when I’m done with the whole thing.

What did you think about Margaret wanting Reverend Hathaway?

Margaret lusting after the Reverand Hathaway reminds me of Barbara Jezebell lusting after "Father Happy Pants" or did she call him "Father Hunky"? Anyway, they are both inappropriate wackos!

Yes, please PM me when you eventually finish the next segment.

[TVLegend]

I think I only have three scenes that I need to do, and after that, I should be done. Somehow, this didn’t take that long to work on.

[Wawwie]

Pops sure did have a lot of secret "sluts."
LOL @ the butterfly suit
LOL @ Thelma being called a big buffalo on the T.V.

I am wondering why Thelma was being chased by the cops.

Now we're up to 2 long lost relatives in Connie and Taylor. Poor Taylor!

[TVLegend]

Originally Posted by Wawwie

Pops sure did have a lot of secret "sluts."

Poor Margaret, she was mesmerized by Miss Effie’s cupcakes while Pops had a sweet tooth for something other than cupcakes.

Originally Posted by Wawwie

LOL @ Thelma being called a big buffalo on the T.V.

I am wondering why Thelma was being chased by the cops.

Well, I didn’t quite think about why Thelma was being chased by the cops, but I could see Thelma refusing to pay for her gas or doing something “bad”.

Either way, Alan was willing to cough up the child support.

Just curious, did you like the little part where Alan made fun of Ciara at the dinner table for not knowing how to cook?

[Wawwie]

LOL @ the reverend asking Pops if he could have his granddaughter and Alan pretending to be Pops

[TVLegend]

Originally Posted by Wawwie

LOL @ the reverend asking Pops if he could have his granddaughter and Alan pretending to be Pops

Pops must really not be fond of Reverend Hathaway, seeing as he poured Dorothy’s “animated” ashes on him.

Did you get a kick out of Carl calling Alan’s tribute a hot f*cking moving mess? LOL.

[Wawwie]

Originally Posted by TVLegend

Pops must really not be fond of Reverend Hathaway, seeing as he poured Dorothy’s “animated” ashes on him.

Did you get a kick out of Carl calling Alan’s tribute a hot f*cking moving mess? LOL.

I thought it was hilarious that Margaret was sucking down the beers right before the service!

[TVLegend]

Originally Posted by Wawwie

I thought it was hilarious that Margaret was sucking down the beers right before the service!

I see that alcoholic Margaret was a little torn up about Connie “doing walks” with the reverend.