Funeral
My funeral was a very depressing thing to watch. While I don’t mind that people were upset and solemn - the tears were flattering - I might’ve liked a little more laughter, over the good times.
… Well, I guess not good times, but better times. Like, ‘Hey! Remember that time Boone stole all the water from camp and almost got killed by everyone?’ or ‘Oh! What about when Boone rifled through Sawyer’s stuff and got the shit beat out of him!!’ Anything would have been better than the somber experience it was.
I mean, I’m glad my death wasn’t passed over and mostly ignored, kind of like Nikki and Paulo’s were. That would have sucked. Especially since I like to think that I was a prominent member of the community. And they came out of no where, like they’d been there all along, but really they weren’t. Or when Steve died. …was it Scott? See, that’s a perfect example! Not very many people knew which one died and which one lived.
The only thing that redeemed the day, in my humble opinion, was when Jack tackled Locke. That made dying worth it.
Boone Carlyle//LOST//191