So this is a very short humor piece I wrote, strangely enough, four years ago to the day.

Don't know why I remembered it/decided to dig it up.  But dig it up I have.

Most of my writing from that far back I would happily disown, but I still kind of like this piece.  So I figure I'll post it up here, with a couple minor tweaks.


If there’s one thing I know about life, it’s that it ends, thank god. So, my dear, since the end is indeed upon me, I’m going to save you the trouble of figuring out what to do with my soon-to-be rotting carcass, as I’m sure you will shortly be very much preoccupied with putting on the requisite show of grief. That said, you never were a good actress, so let me start off with a few friendly tips.

1. Stick a few freshly cut onions under your braw and sniff at regular intervals. Don’t get carried away though. Nature gave you what she did, and a few vegetables won’t change that.

2.  Don’t put on any make-up. Trust me, it will contribute to your aura of trauma. By the by, you always did go overboard. If only you’d had a sense of humor, you could’ve passed yourself off as a clown.

3.  Whenever you feel like smiling or laughing, remember that time when we were young and beautiful and in India on our honeymoon and the sun was at just the right angle, painting the entire sky in that brilliant purple and I pushed you off our elephant.

Now, as for my body. Do me a favor and cremate me. Because honey, I swore I’d deal with you till death doth us part, and I’m cashing in. No graves, no tombs, no pyramids, and NO VISITS. I don’t want you tormenting me simply for form’s sake.  You did that enough while I was alive.

For my eulogy. I’ve taken the liberty of composing it myself. It’s on the attached sheet.  Tell your mother it was my dying wish to have her deliver it. Consider that my parting gift, and let it not be said that I am completely heartless.

Finally, my dear, I just want you to know that I know you poisoned me during dinner. Yes, I know, and I knew, even as I raised that first spoonful to my lips. Best meal you ever made for me.

P.S. I’ve never been much of a believer, but it won’t hurt to cover our bases, just in case.  Please, please please repent and take the lord Jesus into your heart, because Hell's not big enough for both of us.

P.P.S. Tell the pool-boy I'll miss him.