A dear friend of mine, Jim, passed away, so we were at his funeral. At one point, someone mentioned that Jim was wearing Superman socks. He apparently requested to be buried in these socks. Me, I love footies and have a special affinity for the socks my mother-in-law knits for me.
Me: I want to be buried in a pair of socks that your mom knitted.
Austin: That's fine. I want to be buried in my werewolf costume.
Me: I'll try. I mean, I'll see what I can do. I plan on throwing you
in a ditch. It'll probably be me on the phone with Mom, “Yeah, come
up and help me clean the blood off the floor. Then we need to carry
the body out.”
No comments:
Post a Comment