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by Norman
Rated: E · Poetry · Entertainment · #2237295
Reading the obits is my favorite sport
It’s Thursday and the mail has come
Just bills and other stuff
I don’t look at the ads at all
As for bills, I’ve had enough

But in the mailbox with the rest
Is what I’m looking for
The local paper has arrived
So I’m content once more

This is my favorite time of all
When I relax and read
The obituary column first
Yes, that’s the news I need

I have to find out who has gone
On to a better place
I don’t see any names I know
I’m glad that’s not the case

But wait a minute, what is this?
There must be some mistake
That’s my name on the final page
They mention there’s a wake

Now I’m confused, I must admit
I didn’t know I’m dead
I checked the listing one more time
And this is what I read

He passed away on Sunday night
While he was fast asleep
“He never told me he was sick
I never heard a peep”

That quote was from my wife, of course
They said she was so sad
I felt relieved I will admit
That she said nothing bad

Born in the same house where he lived
Until the day he died
“He always said he was the best
But heaven knows he lied”

That’s what my brother said of me
He always was a jerk
He never could do anything
Not any kind of work

“He was a most disturbing boy
But harmless most the time
I am surprised he didn’t make
A livelihood of crime”

My eighth-grade teacher gave that line
She always made me smile
Although she scared me half to death
She still could joke with style

Did no one say nice things of me?
Did I not have a friend?
I’d like to think someone would cry
When I had met my end

Wait a minute! Wait a minute!
What is that I see?
His middle name starts with an ‘F’
While mine starts with a ‘P’

I have to check my pulse again
I think I’m still alive
You know, I think that I’m okay
I think I will survive

That’s cured me of my favorite sport
I must find something new
I won’t read obits any more
Not like I used to do

Instead I’ll have to spend some time
To polish up my past
Since I have reached a certain age
I’ll have to do it fast

‘Cause when I finally bite the dust
And they write my obit
I hope they’ll say nice things ‘bout me
Like I was such a wit

I don’t know if I trust them though
When it comes to that date
So I will write my own obit
So there is no debate

I may not have done everything
That others thought I should
In fact there were so many times
I was misunderstood

I never harmed a living soul
In fact I never could
Just think of me from time to time
I hope your thoughts are good

Donations may be made to the Humane Society

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