Here’s How I Die

Not in the near future, even though this cold/flu has done me in, but, you know, when the time comes.  After all, a girl can’t die until she finally runs into Little Old Kleinheider at a bar where he introduces her to his husband, Harold Ford Jr., and she has to have a drink because she both can’t imagine anything more perfect and never saw that coming.

I keep having this dream that Sarcastro and the Butcher have created a pill that will cure me of this cold/flu.  The only drawback is that it gives me incredibly noisy, nonstop farts, which they think is hilarious.  I wake up from this dream realizing that I’m choking on my own innards; that’s the noise.  Even now, I can do it, if I tilt my head forward enough, I can’t breathe.

I think that’s why I get more rested when I sleep on the couch–I’m sitting almost upright and everything stays open.

Anyway, that’s how I go.  I either drown or suffocate in my own self.

I’ve had pneumonia six times, all before I was 25, and every time I get a chest x-ray done, the doctors tell me I have to quit smoking because my lungs are shot.  I don’t smoke.  There’s nothing to quit.

I hope to be old when I go, but if I go naturally, I bet it’s because I can’t breathe.

4 thoughts on “Here’s How I Die

  1. Awwww, c’mon… don’t die on us now. We’d sure miss you, ya know. Have some chicken soup and sleep and shit or something, and feel better soon.

  2. I’m not dying until I see Kleinheider make out with a dude.Sarcastro, it has been about that long since I’ve been that sick.

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