Friday, April 3, 2020

The Die of Death by Kenneth B. Andersen

The Die of Death: The Great Devil War II


Well folks, we are on week 3 of social distancing, or as I like to call it, the greatest fucking thing that has ever happened to me! I finally have a legitimate excuse to never leave my home! No more knocks on the door, worrying that it might be someone selling magazines, or even worse, a family member coming to visit! My daughter Rachel said that because I have been here on my own for more than 14 days, she was comfortable with me coming over for Sunday night dinner. But oh, no, I said - sounds way too risky. Maybe I got infected from standing too close to the window or something, and I wouldn't want to put her family at risk, even for some overdone pot roast. I mean, think about the children! It was only responsible of me to decline. See ya, suckers!

To be honest, I'm not too worried, because what's the worst that can happen? Dying? Bah. I made my peace with that a long time ago. The way I see it, I'm just close to the front of the line to learn the answer to life's most confounding metaphysical contradictions. For example, if there is a loving and forgiving God, then we should all be welcome in Heaven. However, if my son-in-law Gerry is there, then it's not Heaven at all. Boom - mindfuck! Not that I'm not open to all possibilities of course. By this time next week, I may be reincarnated as a water buffalo, and you know what, I'll just make the most of it. At this point, I just need to sort out some details, like making sure all my pickle recipes get destroyed so no one can get rich off my secrets once I'm gone. And figuring out who gets all my books. I love my books, and I want to make sure each special one goes to the right person. Spoiler alert - Gerry, you get jack shit.

And speaking of pickles, while I may not be too stressed about the whole death thing, I have a real catastrophe on my hands here at home. I am down to my last pickle in my very last jar from last year's canning season. Holy shit! It's one of my secret Ghost Pickles™too. Too spicy for you, snowflakes! Try again when you lose 90% of your taste buds. But anyway, I usually try to can a whole year's worth at one time, but lately, with the world freaking out, I've been on a rapid cycle of self-soothing strategies. Mainly: pickles, gin, books, nap, repeat. It's actually a pretty great lifestyle. I just need to make more pickles next fall, assuming next fall comes. And that cucumbers still exist! Who the hell knows, these days? Oh, by the way, the book was good.

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