Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Hey God, Are You Trying to Tell Me Something?

Charles and I were sitting here 30 minutes ago enjoying a movie when the phone rang. Eric is still at work so I answered it, knowing that whomever is calling at this hour had to be family.

A creepyish voice, something like a voice like a mating of Marvin the Martian and Darth Vader asked to speak to me - using my maiden name. I hadn't used my maiden name in years - many many years.

Martian Vader bid me good evening and inquired about my day. Then he launched his speel.

"Mrs. Svetlik have you thought about your funeral in the event of your eventual demise?"

"Mrs. Svetlik is my mother and my grandmother - but she's already intered I hadn't thought about anything other than doing the dishes and going to bed - death isn't on my 'to do' list tonight"

Miss, we here at Restland can help you with all of your funeral preplanning needs so your family won't have to wonder what your funeral wishes are."

"Dude, I'll be dead , they can put me in a Hefty Bag and sing kumbya - I'll be dead I won't care."

"Ma'am imagine the pain and aguish you'll leave your children."

"My oldest child is 15, the only mental anguish he'll suffer is if someone forgets to buy groceries - even upon my eternal departure from this planet. Furthermore, I'm just pleased I finally remembered the brown sugar at WalMart today. The people in my house are happy if there's fruit snacks and string cheese. Titanium inlaid coffins and solid gold overlayed urns are not anything we're ready to give much thought to."

"But ma'am you could die."

"Sir I promise you, we're all gonna die - Prince wrote a song about it, I'm not interested in any tours or time share plans for funeral plots. but you have a good night ."

The economy must be really rough if the Grim Reaper is resorting to cold calls.

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