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.

Mortality: Cancel.

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.

Mortality: Sunday.

Me: Palm reader.

Mortality: Anytime the next week.

Me: Psychic.

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.

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