Thursday, December 12, 2013

One day for all of us


It’s coming.

It’s coming for me and you.

I don’t get very upset about this since it is going to happen no matter what I want. This is why I never understand why some people are so afraid of it.

It is not that I want to die. I just don’t care because it is going to happen. I just really hope that my death is natural (or unnatural) and not one that ends up on the Darwin list like the guy who put his arm up a vending machine, got stuck, and ended up pulling the machine over on top of himself. Idiot.

Now I know that funerals are for the living since the dead really don’t care what happens after they are dead. I mean, as far as I know, no corpse has sat up in its coffin during the ceremony and declared “What, this is all the turnout I get?”

When my time comes and people are subjected to my funeral (I will be there in spirit only) I plan to have invisible strings pull me up, have me start doing frog kicks, and singing “Hello, my baby. Hello, my darling.” Yes, I know I have said this before but it bears repeating. Not to Byron (a former manager who was horrified by some of the things I did and said) who did not see the humor in this but it still makes me laugh when I think of the sheer panic this will cause. I expect to cause fainting, screaming, and a stampede to the exit. People who tell the story can end it with “And that kids is how Al was finally laid to rest. We burned the body just to make sure he was really dead. You can never tell with him.”

Why do people wait until now to say “Bless his heart?” It is a little bit late for that, since you know they are beyond caring and have reached their afterlife, whatever that it.  And, if there is an afterlife, is there a pre-life? A place where people sit around and discuss what they are going to do when it is their turn to be born?

Also, why do they use the phrase “in loving memory?” Whose memory are we talking about here? I bet there are plenty of people who do not remember the deceased fondly.  I bet there are several people in attendance who would like nothing better than to curse at the body.

What cracks me up are that people will tell stories about the deceased and people will nod and say “Yep, that sounds like Bob” no matter the story being told. Like “I remember one summer where Bob was drunk off of pixie dust and hard apple cider. He spent every day squatting on the ground, making chicken noises while wearing a tuxedo. Sometimes he would declare he was a penguin. Other times he would climb to the roof of the barn and declare he was a Bald Eagle gone wild. That was also the summer he ate those wild mushrooms and ran about town, kissing every woman and calling her Lucy Liu, Mama Cass, or Lou Ferrigno. I miss the days when he would sit on my head and tell me of his boy hood dreams of being a woman’s purse. “

“Here are some other things you may not know about Bob. He was one quarter hedgehog on his father’s side.”

“He believed that ice cream should only come in one flavor, Turtle.”

“Kittens as mittens were a few of his favorite things…to wear during the lean and cold months.”

“He told me 16 times that bananas weren’t just for eating. He always told me that with a wink.”
People will nod and say that sounds like Bob even if they never witnessed any of these events.

At funerals, some people stand in a line as others walk by and say “sorry for your loss.” How come no one ever says that to the corpse? They have are suffering a loss as well. They lost their life. What would make that awesome is if someone actually said that to the body and the corpse responded, “I’m sorry too!”

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