So, I worked on my will the other day… I’m going on a trip with my sister—my current will leaves everything to her—well, instructions on who to give it to and if the plane goes down, no one will know what to do... or to get to "that drawer" before my parents—so, I have to think “worst case scenario” on things like this.
I always watch for accidents around the time I fly. I figure if there was an air crash right before my trip, I feel better, since I feel the air has been pre-jinxed. There has got to be only so many crashes out there—lurking about, waiting to happen—I figure if it happens to someone else, then the chances of it also happening to me are significantly less.
The skies have been eerily calm lately.
Could it be that safety has gone up? Maybe because so many companies are about to go belly up, they just aren’t flying. Personally, I think the Air Crash Deity is looking for me. In 1990, I was on a plane to New York and we got diverted because just before we landed another plane crashed onto the runway. Two weeks before I was to go to Europe, four planes were hijacked, two flew into the World Trade Center, one into The Pentagon and the last into a field in Pennsylvania. Are they after me? Am I being paranoid? You be the judge… You’ve probably been talking about this already, haven’t you? Haven’t you?!
So, as the date of my trip draws ever closer, the chances of a crash increases with each flight.
I’m almost resigning myself to the fact that the plane is going to go down (and not in a good ‘porn kind of way’ – wacka-chicka-wacka-chicka-bow-wow). I’ll be the only one not screaming and crying… I’ll be sitting there pissed off. “Damnit!” I’ll cry out, “I really should have taken the time to watch TV more…” (Okay, I think I’ve spent more than enough time doing that… but I’ll be pissed none-the-less.)
I’ll probably be cursing God for letting Osama bin Laden, Sadam Hussein and KIM Jong Il live, and I—a lowly schmuck with a penchant for television—dies in a firey crash. I’d pop God a good one, if I could actually get into heaven.
I’m hoping it’s a terrorist over a malfunction. I can at least “play” with the terrorists. I figure they're going to kill us all anyhow, I might as well make it miserable for them too: “You know, that’s a type-o in the Koran. It actually says you get 70 minutes on your cell phone—not 70 virgins… the cruel joke of it all is you’re out of your calling zone in Heaven, so you still have to pay roaming fees. What? Why am I an infidel for telling you the truth?”
I have this sick feeling that I’ll be right… and that God will be on the Verizon Friends and Family program and I’ve got a freakin’ Catherine Zeta-Jones (Douglas) T-Mobile. Damn you, CellularOne!
Since I probably have not earned enough “good” credits to get into Heaven, I’ll have to count on my “Get out of Hell Free” card, which means I’ll probably end up in purgatory. I hear purgatory has improved immensely now that they have a Starbucks…*
*three, actually.
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