Philosophers say that we should all learn to come face-to-face with our mortality.
Coincidentally, my mortality called me yesterday.
Mortality: Paul, it’s urgent that we meet.
Me: Um, thank you for calling. Ah, please leave a, ah, message after the beep…beeeeeeeep.
Mortality: Dude, stop. I know you’re there. How’s next Tuesday at three? McSorley’s Bar and Grill?
Me: McSorley’s? Just up from the… funeral home? That McSorley’s?
Mortality: That’s it. Got some questions.
Me: Oh, shoot. I have an appointment with Destiny Tuesday afternoon. He tends to ramble so I’ll be awhile.
Me: I can’t do that. What if he decides that I won’t become brilliant and famous?
Mortality: I know Destiny. He won’t mind. Oh alright, Thursday.
Me: Ya, sorry. That’s my past life regression seminar.
Mortality: Friday for breakfast.
Me: Fortune teller meeting.
Me: Palm reader.
Mortality: Anytime the next week.
Mortality: Anytime in 2018?
Me: Meeting with my lawyer?
Mortality: Dude, chillax. I’m not coming to take you. I have a questionnaire for you to fill out. How you want to die, where. That kind of thing.
Me: I have a choice?
Mortality: Ya, the higher-ups want us to be more customer friendly. Don’t worry, you have loads of time left.
I slept very well that night. We met the next day.