 My brother, Ross, died a few weeks ago in a freak accident involving a Slow Loris. Turns out, they're related to monkeys and poisonous. Who knew? I never knew Ross was into Slow Lorises anyway. The doctor said there was a rash of Slow Loris attacks recently, which is strange because they're kind of like sloths otherwise. Anyway, Ross died and the whole family gathered for the funeral. Everyone was sad, you know, like you're supposed to be. Ross was never the family favorite, always a bit weird, but whatever, family is family and he was young. His casket was open. The funeral home really did a great job at cleaning Ross up. Can't believe he was really gone. Are Slow Lorises even native to Boston? So yeah, everyone was kind of in shock, but things picked up for the old you though. I remember it clearly. Ross, he was a sorry sack in time. Life was all the pressure of reform and the purse. Think for a moment about the vitals he led and powerful tacky skin he scored. Was this a man of rage? Of ricin' by the Eloquo? No. Ross knew the buttery encapsulation of a full life. Like, I remember when he and we and they and he all went to the shivering place. There was just too much marshmallow. Tallow fat. We all cringed and wailed. But Ross? No, sir, we. He just split open the pustules and boom, esophageal ulcers for everyone. Oh, that cousin Johnny, oh, he's such a riot. By the end of that, we were all in stitches. After a speech like that, I could barely keep a straight face as I walked up to the casket, took the knife, slashed my wrist and bled for Ross. When I was done, I passed the knife onto Outbridged and looked back at Ross one last time. That's when I noticed something weird. His gut was beginning to expand. I stuck around to watch as this bulge in Ross's belly started bursting through his tucks, all purplish and pulsating. In the middle of Uncle Earl's turn to bleed, that growth ruptured, sparring Earl and me and Father O'Reilly and Johnny in a real tail concoction that was like half blood, half pus. Did you know that the spleen is the home of up to half of all the lymphocytes in the body? I didn't. Still don't. Not sure why I said that. Anyway, Ross's spleen ruptured and sprayed us all. A couple of tentacles emerged from Ross's spleen and started grabbing at the metal hinges on the casket and the knife. Steel, iron, the tentacles were grabbing anything made of iron and started turning them into tin cans. Ross, from the casket, still dead apparently, said, always recycle your iron. Johnny just stared at Ross. He was not expecting this. I mean who could? We were wondering how we were going to finish bleeding for Ross without the knife when the rest of us started developing pains in our left side. Everyone's spleen was rupturing and spraying blood. Well, that solved the knife problem. Even if this was, really freaking us out. Everyone except Johnny, who was just standing there, desperately trying to restore order in the whole bloody mess everything had become, he just started prematurely regurgitating his blood and wood pulp into the casket before Livy and Amelia were able to add their blood to the coffin. Ross's spleen tentacles just started slurping up Johnny's slurry like it was a shake or something. Johnny was distraught. There was no way to fill up the casket now. Also, everyone was bleeding out their sides and making a mess of the church. We were all pretty much running around confused. So I guess that's why Noah noticed when this bloody human in a hot London suit and spats rose out of Ross's abdominal cavity. Stepping out of the corpse, the party-crusher wiped the blood from his face and... Dude. Dude. It was that guy from all the shows. You know, that guy? We just had a TV star crash Ross's funeral. He called out, smile and laugh. He reached over to the tentacle and opened it up to reveal a hidden camera. Oh my God. We were on a prank show all this time. That's what was going on. We all started laughing. This was way over the top and you know Ross would have wanted it this way. Well, cousin Johnny wasn't laughing. He was just perplexed. He always did have a weird sense of humor, Johnny. He just emitted a loud shittering and left the stage last church. The announcer closed with... Spleens, storing blood, recycling nutrients, producing lymphocytes and making laughs. They were associated with melancholy in the past, but they provide nothing but mirth and merriment now. Is there anything that this often-neglected organ can do for us? We hope you enjoyed a deep good belly laugh and had a chance to venture spleen. Vent your laugh. Come laugh with us. And remember, laugh is fun. I had forgotten how fun funerals are. We should have them more often. End of file. To learn more about the SCP Foundation, subscribe to SCP Orientation Today and turn the notification bell on so you don't miss any of our videos.