CHAPTER 13. The Funeral
JANE: Dearly beloved...
JANE: Ladies...
JANE: Gentlemen...
JANE: News outlets...
JANE: And other valued members of the Human Nation State.
JANE: Thank you, for taking the time out of your busy schedules to gather with me and my family today.
JANE: A day of exquisite loss and mourning.
JANE: Gamzee Makara, High Court Jester, exalted saint of the purple veil, has left us to traverse that grand, gay carnival in the sky, where, I am told by various members of the clownly cloth, he will spend the rest of history, honking in grand tribute to the Mirthful Messiah.
JANE: I come before you with rage in my heart for the vile, cowardly monsters who have taken away our dear Minister Makara, and I know that many of you feel the same.
JANE: But today is a day of healing, of memories.
JANE: And my first memory of our Purple Prince, was his robust codpiece--
JANE: --As he offered me his friendly support, along with the sacred blood of his brethren, the holy sacrament--
It takes Jake a few seconds of puzzled eye contact before he catches exactly what it is Yiffany is tossing down. In his defense, he is distracted by his wife’s speech, which is doing the emotional equivalent of wringing him out like a wet towel, before using that towel to slap the sweaty buttocks of a large, odorous man. Even if he knows everything she’s saying is a load of horsefeathers, it does nothing for his composure to hear her heap praise on that smelly, homewrecking clown.
Jake wonders what she’ll say about him, at his own funeral.
He narrows his eyes in Yiffany’s direction. She’s a lovely girl, really. He wishes he could have gotten to know her under better circumstances. He’d known she existed, of course--Jane had complained about her often enough--but they’d never had much chance to get acquainted. He rather believes her and Tavvy would have been fast friends.
Then again, perhaps it’s better that she never had much of a chance to get to know his family.
He lets go of the leash.
JANE: And I know that at times like these it is easy to want to give in.
JANE: To throw in the towel, and turn our faces away from the light of democracy and moral fortitude that we, the citizens of the human kingdom, are blessed with from birth.
JANE: God knows I’ve had my own faith tested in the last few weeks.
JANE: As many of you know, I did not grow up with the same privileges that all of you enjoy.
JANE: I was born on proto-Earth, that half-finished dystopia mangled by the ravages of foolish leadership and endless war.
JANE: And as for Gamzee, well, his upbringing was even worse.
JANE: He was born to a violent and uncaring home, a lonely child with few natural gifts.
JANE: It would be simple to let this disgusting, vile, SHAMEFUL act of spiteful revenge turn us away from the blinding light of the sword of justice that hangs over us all--
JANE: Poised
JANE: Trembling
JANE: Ready to burst forth--
JANE: I want to give up, at times. I understand your pain.
JANE: I sympathize with your pain.
JANE: But when that pain! Becomes too hard! To endure!
JANE: Remember poor, lifeless Gamzee! Who suffered pain far worse than any of us could ever fathom!
JANE: THE PAIN OF BETRAYAL!
DIRK: Dude, didn’t you lower the voltage on that shock collar?
DIRK: Little Red isn’t looking so hot.
JAKE: Yes of course i did but the damn doohickys got the kick of a donkey!
JAKE: I couldnt remove it completely shed know i was the one who did it!
DIRK: Well, if that supervillain cuntwaffle doesn’t stop, she’s going to kill her. Not really the best at hostage management, is she.
JAKE: Hey!
JAKE: Don’t call my wife a cuntwaffle!
JAKE: It... it may be deserved but it is certainly ungentlemanly
JAKE: brain ghost dirk i would have expected better of you
DIRK: Can’t imagine why. Aren’t you going to do anything?
JAKE: Why dont you do something!
DIRK: Because I don’t really exist, dickhead.
JANE: But we cannot allow his memory to be in vain!
JANE: For Gamzee Makara taught us that even the most loathsome degenerate can take their place in society.
JANE: All they need is the right redemption arc - !
JANE: !!!!
JANE: Young lady, I am just about at the end of my rope with you.
JANE: Throw all the dog bowls you want at the walls of my warship.
JANE: But don’t you dare act up in front of a
JANE: Live
JANE: Fucking
JANE: Newsfeed!
YIFFY: Grrrrrr
JANE: After everything I’ve done for you--paying for your education, helping your parents cover up your existence from the world!
JANE: Just imagine what Rose and Jade would say if they could see you now, even dissidents can have a little decorum!
JANE: Get down from there at once!
YIFFY: Grrrrrr
JANE: Don’t you threaten me, young lady. Not today!
YIFFY: GRRRRRRRRR
JANE: There’s nowhere for you to go. My agents are swarming this church. Be reasonable, Yiffany.
JANE: Ugh.
JANE: Disgusting name.
JANE: But that’s hardly your fault. You were always just a footnote. Your parents’ little prank.
JANE: Honestly, that’s why I helped them all those years ago! I do love a good jape.
JANE: But let’s be serious.
JANE: You don’t matter. If you did, they would have come for you already.
JAKE: Hot spit and monkey vomit this is getting bad
JAKE: I-I shouldnt have let her go up there
JAKE: I thought she would just run away!
DIRK: Still might.
And she does. Seemingly at the end of her tolerance for insults toward her name, social status, and heritage, Yiffy performs an impressive backflip off the podium and down onto the church floor. One that, if it hadn’t been happening amidst a sea of other newsworthy events, would surely have ended up on someone’s instagram story within thirty seconds. She gives Gamzee’s corpse one last parting kick: a hard, proper kick that proves those cleats aren’t just for fashion. Although they are certainly also for fashion.
There he flies--in his gangly, purple, necrotizing glory. A phantom honk seems to hang above the congregation, as if from an echo of a time long past. A simpler time. A time before we had to deal with this disgusting clown’s bloated corpse every other update. He vanishes into the seething crowd, and we are confident that we will never have to deal with this asshole ever again.
Jake watches this from a safe distance, poised on the edge of intervening to pull Yiffy out of there. But in the end he doesn’t have to. Instead he watches in admiration as she tears the place to utter shreds. An echoing sympathy swells inside of him as she rends apart the funeral flowers and punts Gamzee into the shrieking congregation. Here is a girl who felt the cold, indecent hand of fate wrapping around her, and instead of submitting to it and slowly sublimating down into morasse of boiled doormat, she slapped it away from her with a lively oh, no thank you.
All at once, Jake feels immense affection for his granddaughter. He hopes the two of them can make up for lost time.
JANE: Enough of this.
JANE: Seize her!
The stained glass window shatters inward, obliterated to stardust. The war is knocking.