It was Sunday afternoon as sorrow and depressed souls surrounded the Catholic Church in Kalcutta Street, Woodbrook as an elderly man by the name of Craig Jones, aka “Jonesy” had passed away. I wasn’t too familiar with Jonesy but that was one of my granddad’s companions so I had no choice but to attend. Sitting there in the church, boredom plagued me like a drought over the land as I just sat still continuously staring at wooden casket which contained the late Jonesy.




I thought this funeral service could not become anymore boring and tiring until trouble began to stir. After the priest had finally finished his lengthy and uninteresting eulogy of Jonesy he inquired for Jonesy’s wife to come and pay her respects to her husband who had lived such a honest and good life. But the most comical thing occurred. Not one but three women stood up. Everyone in the church stared in amazement at the situation before them. Even the women exchanged glances of bewilderment towards each other.



Apparently Jonesy was not the honest and respectable man that he was known for, and who said old people do not have drama in their lives. Sitting there I tried to withhold the laughter bursting to escape my mouth as the whole church began in an uproar as if a session of government had begun. Three women began quarrelling incessantly and violently towards each other complaining that each one was Jonesy’s first wife and the rest were just fooling themselves.


The argument continued for a while until one of the wives’, a middle aged Spanish woman, got so frustrated shouting, “I can not handle this stupidness anymore!” Then she walked up to the casket, pulled of a huge diamond ring Jonesy wore on his pinky finger and pushed over the casket, crashing it to the floor running out of the church and down the street until she disappeared around the corner. Though no one ever saw that woman again memories of her stunt still remained embedded to the neighbours of Woodbrook as she was rightly given the title, “The Runaway Widow!”




THE END