Shelby stood before the two caskets of Alfred and Jett.  They were black, each with a Westerberg football helmet sitting on top. She had her arms wrapped around her stomach like she was going to be sick as she gazed at them sadly. "Dear Diary... I'm going steady, mostly he's awesome, if a bit too rock and roll. Lately he bumped off three of my classmates, and God, now we'll never know..." She sang, closing her eyes and squeezing her abdomen tighter. "They were just seventeen... They still had room to grow... They could have turned out good, and now we'll never know."

"There's been a lack of girls climbing through my bedroom window lately." A voice sounded, and VP stepped into the room.

Shelby glared at him. "Take a hint."

"Okay, you're mad, I get it." VP stated, holding his hands up.

"No, I don't think that you do." Shelby hissed. "Ich Lüge bullets? You lied to me!"

"You were lying to yourself." VP snapped back. "You wanted them dead too."

"Did not!"

"Did too!"

"DID NOT!"

"Hey," VP stopped her, "did they make you cry?"

"Yes." Shelby muttered.

"Can they make you cry now?"

"No, but you can." Shelby said, turning away and walking down the aisle of the pews in the church.

"Just wait 'til you see the good that comes from this!" VP urged.

"No good could possibly come of this." Shelby growled.

"Call me an optimist." VP said in a velvety tone, though there was venom behind his words.

Shelby turned away from him as people began to file into the church for the funeral service, somber music filling the room. "Dear Diary, my teenage bullshit has a body count." She muttered.

Despite her effort to avoid him, VP took her hand and led her to their seats in the back. The crowd was quiet as Alfred and Jett's fathers, Arthur Jones and Francis Anderson, stood up by the caskets.

"I don't really know what I'm supposed to say up here." Arthur began stiffly. "I'm ashamed, certainly. My family has turned our town into a laughing stock. When I think about the sick, disgusting things Alfred and Jett were doing-"

Francis turned to the other parent, his face lit with anger. "Now you wait just a minute, Arthur!" He shouted. "It is ignorant, hateful talk like your's that made this world a place our boys could not live in! They were not dirty," he turned to the attendees, "they were not wrong! They were two lonely verses in the Lord's great song!"

"Our boys were pansies, Francis!" Arthur snapped.

"YES!" Francis exclaimed. "My boy's a homosexual, and that don't scare me none. I want the world to know... I love my dead gay son!" He smiled, before turning to Arthur. "I've been thinking, praying. Reading some magazines. And it's time we opened our eyes. Well, the good Lord made the universe, the Lord created man. And I believe it's all a part of his gigantic plan. I know God has a reason for each mountain and each flower, and why he chose to let our boys get busy in the shower!"

"... We never did that." A familiar voice said next to Shelby's ear, and she jumped noticeably, causing VP to glance over at her in concern. She whipped around, and sitting next to her in the pew was the ghosts of Jett and Alfred, still stripped down to their underwear and socks. Jett had a bloody, ragged hole in his neck, and Alfred a clean hole in his chest.

"We're not gay." Jett pouted.

"They were not dirty! They were not fruits!" Francis continued. "They were just two stray laces in the Lord's big boots! Well, I never cared for homos much until I reared me one, but now I've learned to love... I love my dead gay son! Now, I say my boy's in heaven, and he's tanning by the pool. The cherubim walks in on him, and Jesus says it's cool! They don't have crime or hatred, there's no bigotry or cursin'. Just friendly fellows dressed up like their favorite village person!"

"Somebody kill me." Jett groaned.

"She already did." Alfred pointed at Shelby, and both boys looked over at her and smiled. "Hey, Shelb. Miss us?" Alfred winked, and Jett stuck out his tongue at her.

"They were not dirty! They just had flair! They were two bright red ribbons in the Lord's long hair! Well, I used to see a homo and go reachin' for my gun, but now I learned to love- and furthermore!" Francis placed a finger on a flustered Arthur's chest as he yelled at him. "These boys were brave as hell! These boys, they knew damn well, those folks would judge 'em, they were desperate to be free! They took a rebel stance, stripped to their underpants!" Arthur slapped the hand away and marched towards the door, attempting to escape. Francis's piercing lavender eyes followed him. "Arthur, I can't believe that you still refuse to get clue, after all that we been through- I'm talking you and me!" The entire crowd gasped, including Alfred and Jett as Arthur completely froze in place. "In the summer of '83!"

The crowd looked expectedly to Arthur, who turned very slowly around and looked at Francis, his posture erect and awkward. He inhaled a deep breath. "... That was one hell of a fishing trip."

The crowd stood up as Arthur began back toward Francis, who met him half way and pulled him into a deep kiss. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa! They were not dirty- whoa! And not perverse- no no! They were two stray rhinestones on the Lord's big purse!"

"Are you seeing this?" Jett whispered.

"I really wish I wasn't." Alfred replied.

The men broke their embrace and turned to the crowd, each with an arm holding the other's side. "Our jobs are now continuing the work that they begun!"

"'Cause now we love, love, love! We love your dead-"

The men grabbed each other's hands and began dancing around. "They're up there disco dancing to the thump of angel wings! They grab a mate and roller skate while Judy Garland sings! They live a playful after life that's fancy-free and reckless!"

Arthur stepped forward. "They swing upon the pearly gates!"

Everyone began dancing around with them save for a few students, which consisted of Shelby, VP, and Katyusha. "And wear a pearly necklace! Whoo! They were not dirty! They were good men! And now they're happy bear cubs in the Lord's big den!"

Both fathers turned to their sons caskets, and placed their hands on the surface, their other hands still intertwined as they closed their eyes and bent their heads. "Go forth and love each other now, like our boys would have done."

The congregation bent their heads as well, "We'll teach the world to love..."

"I love my dead gay son!"

"Not half bad, your dead gay son!"

"My son!"

"Wish I had your dead gay son!"

"My son!"

"Thank you, dad, for your-"

"Dead! Gay! Son!"