I’m hoping to become just senile enough that people wait on me, but not enough that they stop taking me out. Then I’ll die by falling into a wishing well, just like Pa and Uncle Andis and Gramps and Aunt Lissie, and …
Doesn’t matter to me how I die, so long as I die with a hard on.
This the blessing bestowed upon me by my girlfriend of course.
I wouldn’t mind not dying at all though…
Baker wrote:
Where did you get the Spoo?
Tracer, fresh spoo was sort of hard to find, as I’m not sure if it is animal or vegetable(there was once mention of a “spoo ranch”. So I had to leave it off the menu. But I did have “breen” aka Swedish meatballs. Since, like G’kar, I couldn’t get the real ingredients, I substituted lean beef and emu meat, the latter for a touch of the exotic. The bagna cauda turned out fine, and I had the fruits mentioned by Sheridan when he arrived on the station. No real brivari to drink, but certain Earth liquors are a tasty substitute. A Crown Royal bottle sure looks like a bottle of brivari, doesn’t it?
I’ve actually seen photos of a guy who committed suicide in much the same way. Tied a rope to a tree, gunned the engine and off he went. The head was 35 feet from the car (BTW, I don’t think they could ever get the vehicle interior clean). Pretty creative.
The first deputy on scene actually knew the guy. His words to the second deputy were, “I think I know that guy. But he was a lot taller the last time I saw him”.
Back to the thread, I’d prefer to go out in a blazing gunfight. My wife, however, prefers I don’t follow through on this.
Just old enough to have had a full life, but not so old as to have begun to fall apart.
…Maybe while reading. I’d just like one of those tidy old-people deaths where you just slump over and pff, that’s it.