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.
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About This Blog
- Lee Bemrose
- Random writings, stories, magazine theatre reviews and interviews, fiction, and occasionally my bi-weekly column Grumpy, which used to appear in the pages of Tsunami mag. Oh and be sure to check out my ebook, 17 Stories Of Love & Crime.
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6 comments:
It's a bold move to hit that button.
P.S. Cats are way better than kids. They have less snot.
Oh, I love this. And I love the idea of hearing 'boing' just before the end.
Boing?
That's it?
No angels' harps?
Or guitar, how about guitar? Spanish guitar would be nice.
Man, I hope I never die then, because that would really piss me off.
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.
... 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.
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