The Redhead and the Corpse

a true story by Russell Pinkston

We all have lost a love one who meant alot to us. This story has nothing to do with that. It's about cruising for chicks at a funeral (after there all there always seems to be at least one person who is single).

Years before Will Ferrell, Owen Wilson and Vince Vaughn did it in The Wedding Crashers there was me. Sexy, adorable, sensitive, little ol' me. I was at my peak. I was irrisistable. I was charming. I was eight. Yeah the ladies loved me. I was four foot tall, eighty some pounds of strapping muscle, skin, and bone. Ok maybe not so much muscle. But I was tenacious.

So there I was at a funeral. Whose? Who was that corspe in the nice suit? Really couldn't say but pretty sure but it was a family member. I think maybe it was my grandfather on my mother's side.  At the reception there was this guy. I didn't know him but once again I had the feeling he was family of some sort. But this isn't about him. This is about the girl he brought with him. His girl, his date (who brings a date to a funeral anyways?) She was early twenties and she had a great body (hey I may have snuck a peek at one of my dad's Playboys) so I kind of knew a good looking lady...and she did), and flaming red hair. She was hot (ok at eight I probably thought my mom was hot but that is beside the point). She knew I wanted her. The ladies could always tell. When you got it you can't hide it. Somehow this bet or more like a challenge was presented to me. If I could raise enough money and give it to the guy (was he her pimp?) than she would be mine. I think we agreed on the sum of $2.50 (alot of money back in the day). Forget grandpa (I'll miss you, gotta go). I had more important things to do. So there I was hitting up the mourners for cash. I got a nickel here, a dime there, here a quarter, there a penny (cheapskate). For what seemed like all day (probably more like a hour) I begged and pleaded for money. I think everyone was in on it and was told not to give me much. Sure...mess with a eight year old with a heart of gold and a premature sex drive. Each time I felt dispair and discouraged I would catch a glimpse of that red hair. Renewed determination. I wanted her. I had to have her. She was gonna be mine. I didn't have any idea what I would do with a redhead. I just knew I had to have one.

Finally at the end of the time limit the pimp...guy asked me how much I had accumulated. I took the change out of my pockets as the redhead and the crowd looked on. I counted it out than counted it again. I had only raised like $2.25. One more beeping quarter was all I needed. Pimp guy said "Sorry pal, maybe next time." He told everyone goodbye and with redhead in tow he turned to leave. The redhead looked back and gave me a smile. What? No? Come on man. Cut me some slack. Give a guy a break. After all my grandpa just died. Then they were gone. To this day funerals aways make me cry.