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Well, here I
am.
I never expected it to happen this soon,
but I passed away last weekend.
Stupid
horse,
I told them I didn't like horses,
too much power for an animal that gets spooked so
easily.
But I blame it on the rattlesnake,
I hate them too,
so did the horse.
Stupid
snake spooked the horse and it threw me.
The doctor says I died when I struck my head on a
rock,
busted my head wide open, he says.
Well, maybe I did,
how would I know,
I'm dead.
What
really gets my goat,
is lying in this box at what is supposed to be my
funeral,
the celebration of my life,
with people remembering the 'fine fellow' I
was.
Who are
these people anyway?!
Someone must have gotten the eulogy mixed up with the
funeral next door.
I hear someone talking,
but I don't recognize his voice.
Who on earth is he talking about?
Is that supposed to be me?
"gentle spirit"
"giving and kind",
"always caring for his fellow man".
Horse-pucky!!
He doesn't know me very well, does he?
Get someone up here who knows the real me.
Tell them what I was really like,
"lazy slob with no sex appeal",
"cheap penny-pincher",
"lousy dresser".
Oh,
well,
Let them have their day.
If they think better of me when I'm dead then when I
was alive,
who's it going to hurt?
Just so long as you know it ain't so,
I guess that's all that counts.
Hey, if
you happen to be driving by the cemetery,
why not drop in for a visit,
and bring flowers.
I like orchids.
by David Ronald Bruce Pekrul
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