The chair was so comfortable at my uncle's funeral that it didn't tear the back of my *** off like other chairs do. I was happy about that yet sad about my uncle's demise. He had been eaten by Pygmy cannibals while playing tennis. Aunt Joan, his wife, had begged him to cancel the match because Pygmy cannibals had been spotted in the vicinity. But, being stubborn like he was, he exhibited no outward fear of the little human-flesh-eating buggers. "Pygmy cannibals don't scare me," he said solemnly while swatting a phantom ball before departing. "Please don't go," Joan said with moist eyes and a ***** that was so beautiful that 𝘝𝘶𝘭𝘷𝘢 𝘔𝘢𝘨𝘢𝘻𝘪𝘯𝘦 featured it on the cover of their 𝘗𝘺𝘨𝘮𝘺 𝘓𝘢𝘯𝘥 edition.