Gone in One
Death and Dying Series Prologue
Think fast. If you were to die twenty four hours from now, what would you do?
There ain't no time to deny, be aggressive, bargain, and be depressed; it's acceptance straight on, sir.
And before the end, here are ten things I'd likely do given such a time span.
1. Write ten (or twenty four) people things I couldn't say when I'm alive but really ought to be said.
Maybe I'd write how you still owe me money; eternal damnation shall ensue should you fail to pay me before I die. Maybe I'd write how the world needs more people like you, or how I needed someone like you. Or maybe I'd write how you need to start using deodorants.
2. Give a random street urchin a hug.
Or some money if he starts calling the police.
3. Run up the downward escalator.
Or down the upward escalator... Up the downward elevator?
4. Epic Movie marathon!
No questions asked. The movies to watch before dying should be The Lord of the Rings Trilogy, 8 hours of glorious movie magic. The movies separately are hailed as one of the best since the beginning of cinema, but all three combined in one run would be so epic, your wife could grow a beard.
5. Start asking for forgiveness / Reflect?
With me not being too religious in my lifetime, I'm already assured of a ticket to the underworld, economy class. And with the non assurance of which religion to properly ask forgiveness from (you could never know if it should be the Church of Oprah), I might as well start reflecting on my life as a whole. Curled up. In a corner. A dark, dusty corner.
6. Binge
Let this be my last meal. Ever. Ever. No breakfast or lunch prior. C2 (the new alternative to intravenous fluids) should suffice. Buffets would be nice but it won't taste as well. My food, consisting of 3 sets each of appetizers, entrees, and desserts, would be preordered prior. And if you're going to binge, binge in style: wear a tux.
7. Drive a 250
Zoom Zoom! I'm dying in, not within, twenty four hours. Either that or I die from bleeding. Stay safe.
8. Put the letters I wrote in separate envelopes
I'm just splitting hairs here.
9. Write my last will and testament
Without any money to begin with, let my folks decide on what to do with my belongings. Except my laptop. My laptop should have a funeral service. With a nice intact coffin and flowers from congressmen. As for my body, they can donate everything but my heart, for my heart belongs to only one (wtf emo). Oh, and keep my genitalia intact. Afterwhich, my body will be cremated. It will then be used as gunpowder come New Year's Eve.
My cremated body will be spread around the world, causing allergies and cancer.
10. "Skydive"
Off the condominium.
---
They're all pretty far-fetched, but at least I'm given time to do such things. Not an instant plop-dead drama of instantaniety. I might as well prepare now. Which leads me to...
Think fast. If you were to die twenty four hours from now, what would you do?
There ain't no time to deny, be aggressive, bargain, and be depressed; it's acceptance straight on, sir.
And before the end, here are ten things I'd likely do given such a time span.
1. Write ten (or twenty four) people things I couldn't say when I'm alive but really ought to be said.
Maybe I'd write how you still owe me money; eternal damnation shall ensue should you fail to pay me before I die. Maybe I'd write how the world needs more people like you, or how I needed someone like you. Or maybe I'd write how you need to start using deodorants.
2. Give a random street urchin a hug.
Or some money if he starts calling the police.
3. Run up the downward escalator.
Or down the upward escalator... Up the downward elevator?
4. Epic Movie marathon!
No questions asked. The movies to watch before dying should be The Lord of the Rings Trilogy, 8 hours of glorious movie magic. The movies separately are hailed as one of the best since the beginning of cinema, but all three combined in one run would be so epic, your wife could grow a beard.
5. Start asking for forgiveness / Reflect?
With me not being too religious in my lifetime, I'm already assured of a ticket to the underworld, economy class. And with the non assurance of which religion to properly ask forgiveness from (you could never know if it should be the Church of Oprah), I might as well start reflecting on my life as a whole. Curled up. In a corner. A dark, dusty corner.
6. Binge
Let this be my last meal. Ever. Ever. No breakfast or lunch prior. C2 (the new alternative to intravenous fluids) should suffice. Buffets would be nice but it won't taste as well. My food, consisting of 3 sets each of appetizers, entrees, and desserts, would be preordered prior. And if you're going to binge, binge in style: wear a tux.
7. Drive a 250
Zoom Zoom! I'm dying in, not within, twenty four hours. Either that or I die from bleeding. Stay safe.
8. Put the letters I wrote in separate envelopes
I'm just splitting hairs here.
9. Write my last will and testament
Without any money to begin with, let my folks decide on what to do with my belongings. Except my laptop. My laptop should have a funeral service. With a nice intact coffin and flowers from congressmen. As for my body, they can donate everything but my heart, for my heart belongs to only one (wtf emo). Oh, and keep my genitalia intact. Afterwhich, my body will be cremated. It will then be used as gunpowder come New Year's Eve.
My cremated body will be spread around the world, causing allergies and cancer.
10. "Skydive"
Off the condominium.
---
They're all pretty far-fetched, but at least I'm given time to do such things. Not an instant plop-dead drama of instantaniety. I might as well prepare now. Which leads me to...