Wednesday, November 29, 2006

Do not go gentle into that good night,
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

-- Dylan Thomas, “Do Not Go Gentle Into That Good Night


Just today a former high school classmate, Polly, informed me that I need to write my own obituary. This is because:

  1. My classmates are dropping like flies and it might be catching, and

  2. If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself.

So okay, Polly, here it is. I trust you and only you to edit it when the time comes.

Few Mourn Local Asshole's Passing


Infamous local asshole Hulles, [insert age here], passed away in his home last evening thrashing violently and screaming like a girl. He had been suffering from Trailer Parkinson's Disease for several years, a malady he caught from an old girlfriend, and his timely death was viewed as a great blessing by all who knew him except his mother.

He was preceded in death by his cat, Mimi, who was tragically killed and eaten by a gang of spiders the size of dinner plates. He is survived by [insert remaining members of immediate family here] and about 120 former classmates who couldn't be bothered to attend the memorial service.

Hulles was respected by almost no one, even after a number of years of court-ordered public service. We are informed that he died as he lived: friendless, penniless, and with a large erection.

Hulles attempted a number of careers during his all-too-long sojourn on this earth, including white rapper, gigolo, computer programmer, and humor writer. He failed miserably at all of them, to the surprise of absolutely no one. He is perhaps best remembered for the spectacular lawsuits brought against him by a Brazilian woman he kept mentioning in his blog, and which ironically only she ever read.

Services for Hulles will be held [insert date and time here] at [insert location here] unless the Vikings make the playoffs, in which case they will be forgone entirely in accordance with everyone's wishes.

We at the Independent add our expressions of relief to that of his friends and relatives, and note in passing that Hulles' oddly prophetic last words were “Boy, the people I owe money to are going to be pissed.”

-- Hulles


7 comments:

Lo said...

Hullesy, just reading this makes me sad. If you feel like you're on your way out, please inform me immediately so I can make arrangements to have you cryogenically frozen until they find a cure for Trailer Parkinson's. xx

Hulles said...

Cool! (So to speak.) Actually, you don't have to have all of me frozen, just the important organs will be fine.

I'm still hoping for a cure for TPD in our lifetime, though.

Good to hear from you, Lo. Are you still dancin', darlin'?

bee said...

um...this disturbs me. it makes me laugh, but it also disturbs me.

or was that the point?

Anonymous said...

Re: the last line of your obit, HA! HA! Suckers, at least I got a can opener and a nice bag of dirt! I'll miss you, Hulles...

Galaxy :)

Hulles said...

bee, good of you to drop by, I know you've been busy. I know this post was a little dark, but the point was solely to make you laugh. Plus, sometimes I just need to deflate my head by making fun of myself. I don't have Galaxy around to do it for me.

Speaking of whom, don't be missing me too quickly. I plan on sticking around for a while, just to irritate everyone. And yes, you are lucky you got a can opener and a bag of dirt. I always said you didn't deserve the can opener....

Dulcinea said...

I'll be there with a bottle of scotch and balloons for your creditors.

And handkerchiefs for all the women of the world. :-(

(No need to worry about the Vikings. They won't be making the playoffs anytime soon.)

Hulles said...

Dulcinea, if you really want to do it right, make sure you borrow the money from somebody I knew for the scotch and balloons.

Presumably the handkerchiefs are for the women to wipe their foreheads and say, "Whew! Dodged a bullet there!"