Last night, in a little bit of a funk, I took the dogs out for a final stroll. There was a pleasant breeze and the temperature had lightened up from the heat of the day. I saw my neighbor looking for his cell phone and we were chit chatting. He said that he was so tired yesterday from riding the rough seas he almost fell asleep eating, which got us to talking about Mama Cass. I said I thought that dying like Mama Cass would probably be the worse obituary ever. And we laughed.
Then he said, “If I was choking on my boss’ liver, I might not mind the obit.” And we laughed.
He said he had already told his friends that if in the unlikely event he dies before his boss, that he will have a liter bottle of piss in his freezer. And that when the boss dies, they are instructed to go pour it over his grave. He added, “Sicilians always have friends who will do their work for them, if need be.” And we laughed.
When I came inside, I felt better.