They filed into the church slowly, quietly, reverently. Most didn’t notice the lovely architecture, the elegantly arching beams, the intricate stained glass, all hundreds of years old. No, the focus was on the far end of the center aisle that cut through the great space.
Straight ahead, was the raised platform containing a podium to the left, a generous arrangement of flowers to the right, and of course, the coffin in between.
For those coming to pay their respects, seeing this made the unthinkable notion begin to gain more weight.
The Purple Throbber was dead.
Soon, the pews were filled to capacity, with thousands more outside holding vigil. Aside from the occasional rustling and shifting in their seats, there was mostly silence, as the visitors stared into the distance, lost in thought.
It was decided that Captain Sanderson would speak, having known the Throbber for most of his career. The Captain respected the hero and his accomplishments, saving the city time and again. He never knew his secret identity, and out of respect, even in death, the mask stayed on, secret intact. The man who’d assisted law enforcement so many times that he was eventually duly deputized, rested peacefully within his enclosed tomb in full costume.
Standing behind the podium, the Captain looked out among the crowd, seeing a wide variety of civilians, heroes and even known villains come to pay their respects to a worthy foe. Razorback Hazel and her blades sat an aisle away from the Freedom Fund. Major Justice sat shoulder to shoulder with King Mole, after years of bloody confrontations. Such was the respect they all had for the guest of honor, that a truce held for as long as the ceremony went on.
With all the civilians in attendance, the Captain wondered if there was anyone out there who actually knew the Purple Throbber’s other life, his civilian identity? In the end, he suppose it didn’t matter. It was time. He stepped up to the microphone
“I knew him.” He began, “I worked with him. He saved my life more times than I’d like to admit. Once or twice, I was even able to return the favor.”
Vvvvvvv.
Some turned their heads, wondering who didn’t silence their vibrating cell phone. The Captain continued.
“I think back, and it never mattered how big the threat was, PT stepped up to confront it. He always had a plan. Usually a pretty solid one. If I ever questioned his judgement, it was with his name!”
This got a laugh, a welcome breath of ease.
Vvvvvvvmmmmmm.
“Ha, listen, if someone needs to get that, if perhaps it’s an emergency, please do. I know we have virtually everyone in here though, so what could it be?”
Another chuckle danced across the room.
Vvvvvvmmmmmmmmmmm-MMMM
Suddenly, the captain’s eyes went wide, as he realized that was no cell phone. The vibration was continuous now and slowly growing. The guests started to murmur….. some thought they recognized that sound, that….. feeling.
All eyes were now on what seemed to be the source of the vibration.
The coffin itself.
Everyone in attendance was frozen in place. They could not, DARE not move.
MMMMMMMVVVVVVVVVVMMMMMMMMMMM
The flowers were now dancing and falling off the stage. The Captain hung onto the shaking podium. The very pews themselves seem to be coming loose, starting to skitter across the floor.
SMASH! CRASH! BASH! Went the stained glass windows, one by one.
And as the vibrations seem to reach their peak, the lid of the coffin shot straight up into the air, exploding through the ceiling like a cannon ball.
The vibration stopped.
Silence. The masses, as if statues, dare not even allowed themselves to breathe….
Yet there was breathing.
Eyes threatened to pop out of skulls, as all attention was on the Purple clad figure sitting up in his not so final resting place, yawning, stretching his arms, as if waking from a deep, wonderful sleep.
Opening his eyes, taking in his surroundings, he sleepily asked
“Hey…”
“Wha hoppen?”
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