I’ll Write My Own Dang Ol’ Obituary

Obituaries always say nice things about people, even if the person was a grade-A ass nugget. I often wonder if I’ll live up to my obituary, and not in the literal sense. Knowing myself, most likely not, and I would hate to make someone a liar so I’ll just write it now and always keep it with me. That way, when I get hit by a bus while cosplaying as Frogger, they’ll find the pre-written obituary in my pocket and hand it to the newspaper editor.

I think they’ll appreciate the fact I made their job easier. Maybe they’ll go get a coffee with the time I saved them and drink it at my grave to say thanks. That’s a nice thought. My obituary shall read as follows:

He was a good man. But not all the time, just some of the times when he was in a decent mood. And even then, he was still kind of a jerk. Actually, he was a real piece of shit, but he grabbed life by the horns and rode that fucker hard, and nobody can take that away from him, not even the government whom he knows is looking for his buried treasure. He could have written up a will and given it to a charity, but what did that charity ever do for him?

And when life handed him lemons, he took those lemons and threw them at endangered species while driving around in his monster truck. He didn’t have to drive a monster truck everywhere, but he found it much easier just to throw his trash in the back and let it fly out as he drove double the speed limit than to put it in a trash bin and have that pesky government tell him when to set it out on the street.

His funeral will be held this Saturday in the parking lot of Outback Steakhouse. And if you’re thinking you can snag his monster truck, inform your greedy little hands that he donated it to Charity, which is an odd name for a junkyard but they sure know how to make a truck as flat as a pancake.