Our final homework assignment in this writing workshop I've been taking was to write our own obituaries. Come on! It’s close to Halloween! It’ll be fun!
Um, no. No it won’t.
You see, I’m not exactly superstitious, but I AM kind of wimp when it comes to tempting Fate. Fate is someone who I don’t want to piss off or even mildly disturb; therefore, the idea of writing of my untimely demise is something that has been very difficult to do.
When it comes to longevity genetics, I’m pretty fucked. My dad died when he was 61, and both of his parents died in their early sixties as well. My mom is still healthy and vibrant at sixty-four, but her mother died suddenly in her early seventies, and her father barely made it to eighty. Also there’s the whole cancer thing. I’ve gotten extraordinarily lucky two times, but I hear the Grim Reaper has a pretty strict “three strikes and you’re out” policy when it comes to The Big C, so the likelihood that that’ll be what gets me, is pretty high. Or I could get hit by a car—again—and that might be it. Who the Hell knows? But thinking about the jillions of ways one could die is surprisingly easier that imagining how you might be remembered in some paper or some website after you buy the proverbial farm. But despite this AND despite that it goes against the spirit of universal karma, here goes:
It saddens us to report on the demise of Karla May Pinecurtain. She passed away peacefully at her home, surrounded by friends and family, and wearing a size eight Betsey Johnson number. She looked absolutely fabulous. She spent her last hours rocking out to Radiohead, taking bong hits of sticky skunk weed and eating spicy fried cheese while laughing at the stories being told by those closest to her. And somehow, despite her gluttony and stoned condition, she remained a wicked smart conversationalist and super hot sex bomb, right up to her last breath.
Karla May leaves behind a fridge filled with too many condiments and leftovers, clothes in her closet that she hasn’t worn since 2001, and a “personal massager” in her nightstand drawer. Also, her house probably isn’t as clean as it should be and you may find books on her shelves that you loaned her years ago. But now she is dead, so please don’t judge her.
Because she was completely debt-free at the time of her death, Karla May also leaves an enormous amount of her substantial estate to various charities she supported during her lifetime, including those focused on the arts, human rights, women’s issues, and of course, homeless animals. She is destined to have scholarships and foundations named for her throughout the years to come.
Her wonderful, patient husband BH—who was also her very best friend—is saddened by her death, but is understandably overjoyed that he will finally be able to build that cabin on the lake he’s always wanted because she left him tons of money earned during her incredibly successful career as a writer and as host of the long-running world-famous television show, “Let’s Pet Baby Animals”.
Her beautiful daughter, The Geej, is of course grieving for her beloved mother. However, she plans to continue her business as “The Singing Veterinarian Pediatrician” that she operates near her estate in Hawaii with her wonderful soulmate whom she met during her Nobel Prize ceremony in 2035.
Instead of a sick-ass funeral where everyone sits around and gets snot all over everything while they lie to each other about “how good” the embalmed body of the dead person in the room looks, Karla May has requested that those who wish to say good-bye to her instead come to a wonderful party that will be held next Friday evening. The party will take place immediately after Karla May’s ashes are dispersed off of Ann Richard’s bridge as the Mexican Freetail Bats emerge for their nightly mosquito holocaust. Karla May always loved Ann Richards and hated mosquitoes, so this is how she wished for her remains to dealt with. At her Adios-a-palooza, there will be an open bar, tons of amazing food, and a live band. Cabs will be provided, free of charge, so that mourners can get as tanked as they’d like and not have to drive themselves home, even if they live all the way up in Williamson county. Tending to your hangover, however, is your responsibility. Even though she's passed over to The Great Beyond, Karla May does not (yet) have the magical powers required to rid you of pains caused by your own overindulgence, but she does recommend the Ice cold Coke/Migas/Shower/Nap cure.
If you can’t join the farewell events in person, please upload your goodbye message to her YouTube (tagged as AdiosKarMay), and it will be played during the party.
Please don’t waste your money on flowers or plants, and instead, take yourself out to a nice meal or to get a mani/pedi with that cash. Seriously--you deserve it!!
Karla May wanted those who cared for her during her long, happy life to know that she will totally be haunting you after she’s gone. Not in a scary boogety-boo kind of a way, but as a guardian angel. She won’t spy on you while you’re naked and/or picking your nose, because really, who wants to see that. But she will be there to lean on whenever you are sad, or lonely, or unsure. She will come to hang out with you in your dreams, and you guys can totally watch "House Hunters" or reruns of "Let's Pet Baby Animals!" and chat just like old times. It’ll be awesome.