I am deathly ill my dear blogger friends. I'm in and out of fever, I have a sore throat, a headache, a hurt tummy, and I haven't eaten since Saturday. I feel the cold hand of the grim reaper around my throat and I know that soon it will be time to make my voyage into the promise land. I am not scared of my fate just a little sad. I'm sad that there will be no sexy Anthony Mackie look-alike to weep openly at my funeral, to yell to the heavens why it couldn't be him instead of his sweet beloved. I’m sad that there won't be any spoiled, greedy children to fight over my $927.42 fortune. I'm sad that I never got to have one of those obnoxious yet cute mini dogs that I can dress up and stick in my oversized bag. There is so much I haven't done in my short 22 year old life. It hardly seems fair that I must succumb to such and an awful fate.
Okay I'm done feeling sorry for myself. I will fight this cold with everything in me because I WILL meet an Anthony Mackie look-alike and have 2 of his babies. Before I die, I want my fortune to be much larger then $927.42. I also want my cousin to pay me back that $60 she owes me. I want my sister to give me back my damn yellow wedges so that I can be buried in them. I want my damn dog! I have a renewed spirit. I'm taking some medicine and going to sleep. I will live damn it! But just in case I don’t please tell my mom that I want 112 to sing at my funeral. I’m pretty sure they’re available. Thanks
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1 comment:
Well written article.
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