Friday, November 02, 2007

Boing.

I think dying must be like sitting in an aircraft ejection seat. Been a great flight, lots of turbulence, nice things to eat (nuts are nice). You've seen pretty things, met interesting people, wondered why there are children when cats are so much more convenient, you've marveled at the surreality of it all.

And all too quickly it's time to go. Because it's all going down waaay too quickly, and there's no pulling out.

You hit that button.

And the last sound you will ever hear is...

Boing.

6 comments:

Kathryn said...

It's a bold move to hit that button.

P.S. Cats are way better than kids. They have less snot.

bohémienne said...

Oh, I love this. And I love the idea of hearing 'boing' just before the end.

Guyana-Gyal said...

Boing?

That's it?

No angels' harps?

Or guitar, how about guitar? Spanish guitar would be nice.

Y said...

Man, I hope I never die then, because that would really piss me off.

quick said...

Hmm. I wrote this post very late at night after a long day during a long week... and after a couple of long vodkas. It amused me. As well as being written under the influence, it was written under the influence of Laurie Anderson. like another thing I wrote recently called All The Lost Things. First time I've heard a tune and vocals to my written words. Gonna tinker with that one.

Sorry to be the bearer of bad news guys, but it's just boing. Maybe ker-boing. That's all.

Chris Boyd said...

... as long as I die Quick-Lee (groan! )

As the author of that book about Practical Cats wrote:

This is the way the world ends,
Not with a boing but a wimp-purr.