How Would I Want To Die?

I’d rather be asked how do I want to live, but ... since I’m older than most people younger than me (hope ya’ll catch that one), I’m living as good as I can now.

But this isn’t about living, it’s about choosing a way of death. I can say that hanging is out. I don’t like the idea of struggling, wiggling and thinking; this was a bad idea.

Since the electric chair is a thing of the past, that’s dead in the water, although I don’t need someone throwing a toaster in the tub when I’m taking a bath!

Firing squad? Well if it were a foreign country, I wouldn’t have any say in the matter. Just lock, load and fire. End of story. Otherwise, nothing to worry about, and honestly, I’m not good on the idea of people I don’t know shooting at me.

The best way would be in my sleep. But even that one is a toughie. My sleep pattern is so spotty. Four hours one night, none the next, ten hours the next night. You get the idea.

So then I think back to when I was in my fifties where I would kid around about how I wanted to go out, so we’ll go with that one.

I want to be naked, in bed, with a beautiful woman on top. I grab a Pepsi, take a long chug, then take a hit off a cigarette (quit smoking seven years ago) and then die. Paramedics rush in five minutes later and she turns to them and says, “Can you guys come back in ten minutes? I’m not done yet!”

Yeah, I leave this world but my body still has some use.

But the odds say I’ll end up dying in my sleep. Bummer.