As if nails scratched on a chalkboard, their vocal cords were being torn to shreds. The shrill and volume of this laugh came out of nowhere. It made rooms quiet, people stare and gasp by the sharp cackle that would emanate through the confined space. They would release the laugh, then gasp for air over and over against. Almost hyperventilating, but could catch enough breath to keep the laugh going. The Wicked Witch of the West would jolt from the sudden boom of laughter.

“Uhm, excuse me?” stifled the man at the podium with the white clerical collar.

“If you need to take a moment outside, please excuse yourself. This is not the time or place.”

This was my aunts first time seeing naked statues anywhere, let alone our uncle’s funeral. She left and eventually met us at the burial and reception.