You’re not entirely to blame, to be fair. When you requested a Viking funeral you just meant you wanted to be set on fire on top of a giant pile of sticks. You didn’t want your friends and extended family to assemble with a collection of barbaric weapons and charge headlong into a series of daring raids into other suburban neighborhoods so they could bring back their victims and rape them by the light of your pyre.
But come your spectacular funeral Wednesday night that’s exactly what’s going to happen. Six soccer moms and three priests are going to be thoroughly (and somewhat enjoyably, but in a weird kind of embarrassing way) violated by the incredibly drunk assemblage of people who will have convened to see you off to the next life. Seven police officers will also be hospitalized after trying, unsuccessfully, to halt the tide of human violence spilling out from your giant backyard and into the surrounding community.
Come the next day everyone will be really embarrassed by the whole affair, too embarrassed to even discuss it one another. They’ll just go get tested for STDs individually (which is what responsible adults do) and drink lots of water so that they feel a little bit less like they got super wasted and pillaged and raped their neighbors the previous evening.
On the upside the local news will do a piece about your unusual funeral. But as usual they’ll cut out the most interesting bits, specifically the parts about how everything went crazy and how your next three grandchildren were conceived by indeterminate parents.
Congratulations on Your Viking Funeral!
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