"We're going to another funeral. We'd appreciate it if you'd come along."
"Who is it this time?"
"Your grandfather passed away. Heart failure."
"I think I'm going to have to miss this one. Sorry Mom."
"You can't miss this. It's on Saturday at 11 am. Please do this for the family. It would really mean a lot to me."
"Seriously, Mom. Do you know how many funerals I've been to in the last year? NINE. It's getting out of hand. I mean, suicides, car accidents, heart attacks, alcohol poisoning, drownings, a sky diving accident, that Bermuda triangle bullshit, all types of crazy shit going on. And I'm sick of all the funeral services with the minister turning everything into a religious propaganda machine and they just drag it on and on and on. Every funeral is the same. I figured out my lifetime funerals to weddings ratio a couple of weeks ago. You wanna hear the results? Twenty-four funerals and only three weddings. That's an eight to one ratio. That is not healthy. It's damaging to my worldly disposition. So I say no more funerals. This is where I draw the line. I'm sorry."
"OK, son. At least you explained yourself. It is pretty sad, you're right about that. Our family tree has seen better days. Anyways, gotta run. Doorbell just rang. Bye."