Death Bed Regrets
December 4, 2013 § 16 Comments
That I spent so much time staring into the middle distance, neglecting the scenery of the near distance and far distance.
That I did not admit I thought “Gravity” was stupid because people would think I was talking about gravity, the force.
That in my twenties I dated many a low-tide organism believing their personalities could be worked on later.
That I didn’t live in the now, except on my deathbed which kind of sucks at the moment.
That I did those glute exercises that were supposed to make them smaller but instead made them into monsters that terrified a small Japanese town before they were destroyed by a missile.
That I didn’t stop and pet more ugly dogs and let them drag their grateful tongues down my face and wear that sticky sheen like a Boy Scout badge.
Same for lepers.
That I let booze, drugs and prostitutes fill the empty void when Facebook was free.
That I watched the video “Blurred Lines” just once, but God saw.
That I never once shot a bottle rocket into a children’s choir.
That I did not train a bunch of squirrels to form a ball and put them under my shirt and tell my mother I was pregnant and did she want to feel the baby kick.
That I didn’t finish my antibiotics and now everyone’s going to die.
That I used plastic and now everyone’s going to die.
That I was not a vegan and now everyone’s going to die.
That I regularly took the 405 instead of just shooting myself.
That I did not lovingly raise a Siberian Tiger and teach it to attack only when it hears a toilet training story from a new parent.
That I was not less tolerant.
That my mother outlived me and spent my money on a suicide vest to wear to a PETA meeting.
That “you can’t take it with you” also applies to this morphine drip.