The Funeral of Jack Chick

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Prolific, controversial tract publisher Jack T. Chick has died.

chick tract

His associates gather for a private memorial service…


[Funeral home chapel]

[a crowd of somber people sit in the pews]

[a closed casket sits in front of the podium]

[a timid, white-haired minister approaches the podium]

MINISTER: and now, according to the wishes of the deceased, we shall have a time of sharing, where anyone may come to the microphone and share a story of how–

[a figure rushes down the aisle and seizes the microphone]


JOEL OSTEEN: Blessings!

[crowd begins to whisper]

JOEL OSTEEN: [slowly, with wonderment] Jack Chunk was a special, special man whose picture books opened a window to heaven and allowed the smiles of angels to beam down upon us, covering us with the warm, loving happiness that we all have inside us and that God wants us to reveal to ourselves by trusting in the goodness of our fellow man as we bless each other by first blessing ourselves

[a second figure takes the stage]


BETH MOORE: [pats Osteen awkwardly on the back] Okay, hon, why don’t you just stop talking for a little bit.  I think there’s some fruit snacks in the back.

JOEL OSTEEN: [hands over microphone, walks off, grinning and whispering to himself]

BETH MOORE: [cuts line of coffee grounds on podium, snorts it]  Hang on.  Give mama a second.  Oh that’s good

[awkward silence]

BETH MOORE: [caffeine rush hits] Ladies we gotta stop carrying around our insecurities because let me tell you about insecurities why are you trying to measure up STOP MEASURING YOU ARE NOT THE MEASURER GOD IS THE MEASURER and we’re just looking at the television thinking DOES HE LOVE ME and WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME and we’ve got people losing jobs and we’ve got hurts and we’ve got fears and I’m so proud of us because one thing I’ve learned in my own life is ladies let me tell you it doesn’t matter what’s going on, as women we have to learn to–

BETH MOORE: [passes out from not taking a breath]

[a figure swaggers confidently across stage, picks up fallen mic]


FRANKLIN GRAHAM: [scans crowd, frowns] GALL DANG LOOK AT ALL THESE INDEPENDENT BAPTISTS.  If y’all are here, who’s making sure no one at Pensacola Christian College is wearing shorts?

[silence; one person in the back coughs]

FRANKLIN GRAHAM: Jack Chick.  HEAVENS TO BETSY he was a tough ol’ bird.  This guy made John MacArthur look like Jon Acuff and I’ll be danged if I don’t respect his hatin’ game just a little bit.

[the mourners are unsure if this is a compliment; several begin to clap softly]

FRANKLIN GRAHAM: …and he loved the KJV.  GALL DANG that man loved the KJV.  No thanks, bubba; if I want to read a book I can’t understand, I’ll buy one of Joyce Meyer’s WOO I JUST SAID THAT

[crowd stops clapping]

FRANKLIN GRAHAM: …but he lived a good life.  92 years old, though Ken Ham swears he was only 46, ain’t that right, Hammy? HOT DAWG I’M SPITTIN FIRE

[several people get up to leave the chapel]


FRANKLIN GRAHAM: [points at casket] Well he sure didn’t like the Pope, now did he?  I ain’t seen someone treat the Catholics that bad since Notre Dame played Alabama YEEHAW I’M ON A ROLL

[people begin to boo]

FRANKLIN GRAHAM: He said Christian music would lead you to drugs, devil worship, pestilence, and murder.  Or as Gary Chapman calls it, “Tuesday.”

[crowd gasps]

FRANKLIN GRAHAM: [as per Baptist tradition, takes out serving dish of gravy, pours it out in remembrance]


My Books:

Homeschool Sex Machine
JV Superstar
Naked Side Hugs