Kramer fumbled through his pockets.
"Let me help you with that." Sonic dashed behind Kramer, brushing up against his bristly lumbar, gently sliding his gloved right hand into Kramer's ungloved right pocket, and beginning to softly rub the tip of his lumber, already steadily progressing from teak to ash to mesquite.
Kramer's throat rapidly dried, as he yanked from his left pocket his trusty Wonder Bible™ coyly setting it to Book One of Corinthians, Chapter 6, Verses 9 and 10.
"Or do you not know that wrongdoers will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor men who practice homosexuality, nor thieves, nor the greedy, nor drunkards, nor slanderers, nor swindlers, will inherit the kingdom of God."
With all the authority he could still muster, which was frankly very little, Kramer implored with a stern but quiet tone, "what say you to this?"
Sonic chuckled, pulled one foot from his shoe and placed it sensually over one of Kramer's shoes. "No sweat, we're both wearing socks." Kramer let out a confused sounding fart, prompting Sonic to clarify. "As long as we're wearing socks, we aint naked, and if we aint naked, it aint gay."
"We don't even have to say no homo?"
Sonic grinned and shook his head. "Nope."
Kramer was stunned at the revelation. "Of course," he thought to himself. In a blur, Sonic had undone all of the buttons on Kramer's shirt, and smoothly slid his jacket and shirt off his left arm, exposing his bare and grizzly chest. At the touch of his skin against the dank attic air, Kramer felt an unfamiliar rush of freedom crash down on him like a storm surge ocean wave, as if the pulverizing weight of many guilt-ridden decades over a suppressed homosexuality under the watchful eyes of God could now be casually tossed aside like a pair of dirty, heart-patterned boxers. Kramer imagined himself with the strength of an unburdened Sisyphus and wasted no time stripping off his dirty, heart-patterned boxers, and tossing them aside. The pressure of Sonic's hedgecock from behind felt as though it may lift him off the ground at any moment, as the blue streak buried his nose as deep as he could into the pit of Kramer's arm, soaking up as much of his sweet kavorka scent as possible.
On the ground floor, George had sequestered himself from the rest of the funeral attendees, alone in a room with just himself, the coffin, and a bottle of Jeppson's Malört he wasted no time beginning to guzzle it down. He very shortly, very drunkenly, very curiously stumbled toward Landon's coffin, steadying himself on it and spilling some Malört on it in the process. He gingerly lifted the lid and peered through the opening at the corpse that lay inside. George reacted slowly, but after a few seconds his face contorted and he spoke quietly to himself. "That doesn't look like Landon." He gave a look behind both shoulders to assure himself his uncouth behavior had gone unnoticed, and gently he let the lid back down.
Sonic was riding Kramer like a donkey, with one hand in the air like a rodeo jockey as he was playfully bucked around by the tall stallion. "I feel so adventurous, I can't remember that last time sex was so much fun!" Said Sonic, dismounting like a knight, challenging Kramer to a swordfight. They skillfully traded blows like olympic fencers, both clearly nimble from long histories of practice whipping their dicks around with savant-like precision. When this game had run its course, they exchanged a passionate gaze. The foreplay was over, and it was time for the real fun to start.
The final parts of the funeral service began to commence downstairs. Bored, the gang left and returned to Jerry's place, assuming Kramer and Sonic would catch up with them, indifferent to whether they did or not. A light drizzle had started and dominated the atmosphere outside.
Smothering the blue hedgehog and pinning him to the floor, Kramer had firmly grounded his unlubricated lightning rod into Sonic's nubile mud-pit, and contorted his body to be rigid as a plank of Brazilian Cherry. He then used his arms to push himself into a clockwise motion about the axis of penetration. Spinning like a helicopter blade, once Kramer reached an adequate velocity, he let his centrifugal force carry him. "Heh, look, no arms!" He smiled, holding his arms above his head. Sonic was yodeling in ecstacy. Eventually, his spinning generated enough force to carry the pair off the ground, and they began flying around the room. The concentration of friction caused an electrical disturbance, and lights began to flicker throughout the building.
"Yee haw!" Exclaimed Kramer. Sonic was unable to speak, drooling from the pleasure of being drilled like a deck screw.
The funeral attendees below could hear them extremely clearly, as their erotic moans, and the whipping of Kramer's helicoptering, echoed throughout the chapel, his meat-sabre playing the part of a very different kind of church organ.
Gay sex sure is magical, isn't it?
It is in fact, so magical, that at the point of climax, Sonic blew his load clean through the floorboards like a membrane, very similar to how it is when you beat off under your underwear and shoot through the fabric. Youthful gay hedgecum dripped from the cieling onto the coffin below, mixing with the Malört George had spilled earlier, creating an otherworldly elixir which burned through the coffin and pooled on the cadaver inside. Suddenly, the casket began to emit a visible golden glow, pulsating like the high alchemy animation from Old School Runescape. Spectators who had been filtering into the room looked on worriedly. None moreso than the uncouth sunglasses-indoors-wearing few whom nobody at the funeral recognized. They held their breath, and eventually the glow faded. The room felt marginally but noticeably colder.
"You have no idea how much I needed this." Sonic muttered modestly, trembling under Kramer's sweat drenched mass, his eyes affectionately piercing his being.
"I'm surprised how experienced you are, it was very good for me too. I normally wouldn't do this sort of thing, especially with… your type." Sonic took no offense, thinking Kramer was talking about hedgehogs. He was actually referencing Syrians.
Kramer propped himself up with his arms, and Sonic rolled over under him, wrapping his legs around Kramer's waist and pulling him in for a final kiss.
As the funeral ceremonies came to a close, and the coffin was carried outside and committed to the ground, one of the aforementioned sunglassioed men felt a pang of loathing on his shoulders as he began to feel vibrations from his phone against his anticipatory fingertips. He calmly stepped aside and answered the call.
A low voice greeted him briskly. "Any surprises?"
He tried to swallow the handful of oddities and answered dishonestly. "No sir, the event was completely unspectacular. One less thing to worry about."
"Excellent." The call abruptly ended.