How about something on the lighter/morbid side today? Like, me… dying.
As a quick warning, today’s post talks about death in a sarcastic and irreverent light. If that is offensive to you, please read it anyway. If, however, you can laugh about it, let’s laugh like there ain’t nobody watching!
I mean, we all have to die at some point, right? Some of us obsess over it. Some of us worry about it. Some of us try really hard not to think about it. Me, I just laugh about it.
For some reason death scares me about as much as a Black Widow spider, which is not at all, unless I wake up and it’s standing there staring me right in the face. I won’t lie, I’m quite curious about what will happen after I do finally kick the bucket. It’ll probably be a pretty fantastic adventure.
If I get it all wrong here on Earth and find myself hell bound, I can almost guarantee how my “adventure” would start.
It would begin with the devil forcing me to eat a bucket full of dark chocolate M&Ms. I’d “get” to chase those down with a baked potato (Beelzebub himself couldn’t make me eat more than one of those) and a gallon of root beer.
Then, I’d be told to start running. [Shudder]. I hate running. But, it’s hell, and I’d have no choice so I’d hit the hot pavement, weighed down with the horriblenesses of my life. And dang that guilt… so heavy… so intense. After hours of running, I look down. It’s not my guilt and it’s not my vices that are weighing me down at all. It’s something worse. There is something very heavy in my pockets. I reach down and grimace as the true reality of hell backhands me across the chin. Cinnamon bears and black licorice. I am forced to eat, I am forced to keep running. Yes, this is definitely hell.
Hmmm… Maybe I should aim for heaven. Nothing but King Crab and kettle corn up there.
And then there’s the question of how do I want to die. Let’s see… maybe a top five list would make this easier.
- The number one way I’d like to die is to have a giant bear charge out of the trees and gobble me up while I’m flying down a ski slope on a brand new pair of K2s. Sounds gruesome, I know, but I’d leave this world doing what I love. And, think how famous it’d make me.
- I always thought a plane crash would be a fun way to go. For no other reason than I’ve always wanted to try out those drop-down oxygen mask thingies.
- I wouldn’t mind dying on my 130th birthday of some silly disease like the Chicken Pox. It would be fantastically ironic.
- Why not die by exploding? I’m not sure which exploding method would be best. Maybe accidentally trip and fall into a giant microwave while wrapped in tin foil? What?! It could happen.
- I think it would be really cool to dog sled through Canada and fall asleep in an igloo, never to wake up. They would make a movie out of it… A cross between Into the Wild and Encino Man. Plus, it would be fascinating to watch the tiny ice crystals form on my eyelashes as I drifted away.
[sigh] A boy can dream, right?
I also have big plans for my funeral.
First, I want to be buried in a casket with the words “Dan Pearce was here” hand-written on the side. The humor wouldn’t totally be appreciated until my body was a pile of dust and hair.
Then, I’d like my casket to be completely filled with M&Ms. I want nothing but my face poking through. My mom suggested that I could have my mouth open, also full of M&Ms. Yeah, let’s do that. Why not? And since I hate “yuck swapping”, I’d want a small scoop placed on top so that the people passing by the casket could each take an untainted handful of chocolate to keep their blood sugar going during the services.
For my eulogizers, I’d like to have the following speakers. Liam Neeson because he’s a kick-butt actor. Ellen DeGeneres, because she’d have everybody rolling with laughter (and she’d get you all dancing). And, William Hung, just because I like his cute little face.
At the graveside service, I’d want a trampoline setup next to the hole in the ground. It might take them a few tries, but I want my pallbearers to hoist me, drop my casket onto the trampoline, and with one perfect bounce send me down in style. Hopefully the casket doesn’t burst causing M&Ms to fly everywhere. While that would be awesome, I’m kind of selfish and want them to myself.
Finally, I’d want my epitaph to say,
Here lies a laughing single dad
Eaten by a bear, he was stark-raving mad
If you find yourself hungry
And want food in your tummy
Dig here, you’ll find M&Ms undie.
Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing
PS, I’m very curious: along this horribly awesome humor line, what would your personal hell be like? Also, what would you like your own epitaph to say? Extra bonus for rhymes and limericks.
APOLOGY IN ADVANCE: I sincerely offer a big “I’m sorry” if any of you had loved ones eaten by bears while skiing, who died getting wasted while their plane went down, killed at the age of 130 by the chicken pox, who exploded in a microwave, or who froze to death in an igloo. I mean no disrespect.