My wife and I had dinner at a snazzy restaurant tonight, and along with the appetizers, the waitress served us a tray with various types of sauces and dips, one of them was guacamole mixed with other ingredients. To be a good sport, I tried it, and I’m telling you, surprisingly, I didn’t hate it. In fact, it wasn’t half bad. Of course, the guacamole was buried in the conglomerate of whatever other foods it was halfheartedly disguised under.
After dinner, it occurred to me that this can’t just be happenstance, and it must have a deeper significance. What does it foretell, what does it portend? When I go to drift off to sleep tonight, will I be summoned along a vast tunnel with a brightly shining light beckoning me by the call of my name? Is this my last day in this world? Am I destined to slip the icy cold grip of this life and float on to the next one?
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It’s official then. I’ll never make it until morning. Goodbye, cruel world!
:(
Hey, wait! Why is it so dark here all of a sudden? And what is that awful burning smell? Please speak louder; I can’t hear you over all of the screaming and crying and gnashing of teeth! Hold on, “Bub”, that’s no halo and set of wings you’re waving at me, and I wish you’d quit prodding me along with that pitchfork, it hurts! Who do I see about getting my harp? I’ll need lessons before I will be able to play it very well. Listen, I already told you once about poking me in the butt with that pitchfork, Prince of D’ar Kness, or whatever your nametag says. The lighting down here is terrible, I can’t see a thing. Down here? Why am I descending? I thought I was supposed to be going upwards, into the clouds, you know! The humidity really gets to a guy. None of this is how I’ve imagined it would be. There you go with that pitchfork again, S.A. Tan! Why does your nametag keep changing? Oops, hot coals, have to pick up my feet here, I see. Grrrrrrr.
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Oops. Light.
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Jane S 