Dying
Dying is not for everyone. Latigo Flint can tell you that right now. Alcoholics should definitely steer clear of dying--there isn't a drink to be had anywhere when you're dead. It's downright intolerable. You see humorous graffiti handwritten across the pastel-mustard sky that says stuff like: "Who do I have to kill to get a drink around here?!" and then "Ha ha ha." and whatnot. Latigo Flint knows all this to be true because Latigo Flint died last Thursday.
I have no goddamn clue where the hell I was. I'm very sorry to all the various religions; I won't be able to help you out with any redemptive information. I do know this though; from what I could tell, none of you have it right so far. I've never seen or read any description that even remotely resembles the place I went. In fact, while I'm certainly no world-linguist, I've a sneaking suspicion there aren't even words in modern language to effectively describe it.
I'll give it a try but I really don't think it's going to translate very well. Here goes nothing: When you die you land in a rowboat that's surrounded by crinkly, then you do pogo stick bouncy in the rowboat for a while and millions of flying trout made of television static are kind of there but also not really, and sounds attack each other but playfully I think.
I'm sorry, that's the best I can do. I'd try it in Spanish but I really don't think it would help. Like I said, I seriously doubt modern language can describe it. However, while modern language fails miserably in describing what is there, it has no problem describing what isn't. Chiefly, booze! If you're the sort who really enjoys booze, I highly recommend not dying.
So I came back. I said to myself, "This is crazy, there's not a drop of beer to be had. I don't like it here. I'm not staying." Fortunately my body was still in the culvert where I left it. It smelled a little ripe but it was nothing a few beers and a shower couldn't fix.
posted by Latigo Flint @ 3:24 PM
16 comments
16 Comments:
Where I went was remarkably similar, though everything was spinning around me, yet I was pefrectly still and weightless. It was pretty fun, except I felt sick when I woke up.
You know, I think my bed is surrounded by crinkly.
Well, that settles it. I'm simply going to have to follow through on my plan to live forever. They can have my booze when they pry it from my cold, dead hands. Which will be never.
Millions of flying trout made of television static and no beer?! to hell with dying, then. I'll just enter my invulnerability cheat code now.
Too bad it wasn't a rowboat surrounded by crinkle-cut fries. I'd make sure I had a bottle of Hidden Valley Ranch with me in my casket.
DYING sounds a lot like taking a handful of peyote buttons. Something to look forward to.
hmmm. this actually made me a bit giddy about dying. it's a lot more chaotic than heading towards the light.
You probably need 120 proof rum. I am told this is a great preservative, so dying is out of the question.
Hmmm... maybe there's no booze because most people can't handle it when coupled with the pogo stick bouncy!
the experience of dying sounds like an experience i had recently that was booze induced actually.
welcome back! i missed you!
This is something the Adolph Coors brewing company will want to know about. It could make an effective advertising campaign.
"Enjoy it while you can."
Welcome back. Although next time you fancy kicking the bucket, perhaps you ought to give us a bit of a heads up. It's only polite really. That way I'll know when to start wailing and beating my chest, and carving "Flint 4 Evs" in my forearm with a cake fork.
Yep, the dyin' thing is all off-schedule, Latty, because I thought sure your many disjointedly violent(yet true) tales would become an award-winning daytime western-soap, children's book, feature film, or Saturday morning cartoon before then.
Posterity could hope, of course, that all of the aforementioned would/will come to pass.
I feel ya Steve. I think there's a bit of the death going around. Everyone should be sure to bundle up and take lots of noodle soup and whiskey.
That tends to happen to pretty girls Cindy-Lou.
See Amandarama, you've an excellent plan there. I wholly support you.
It very well may have been Ghost Dog, it very well may have been.
Your collective is an exceptional one Macek, I am honored by my inclusion. (And you got that damn straight.)
Yes Forth, it is. Nothing is as straightforward as they would have us believe... except for the things that are.
It isn't even pondered Old Hoss.
Okay, well that is a pretty good observation there MJ... but still, there are ways around. They don't have to take it that far.
I'm told there are similarities Tabitha Jane. Thank you and likewise.
The Adolph Coors Brewing Co, huh Dave? I thought they already had a slogan and it's...
(Oh, I can't do it.)
Frankly Greta, I think anytime is the right time for pretty girls to carve "Flint 4 Evs" into their forearms with cake forks. I'm sorry about the abrupt gone there, but I did suddenly die you know... that sort of thing tends to take you by surprise.
Hey Ari, when it's your time, it's your time. Fortunately I was too tough for it. (Would/will come to pass. I like that. I guess I'll just have to see how it all shakes out in forty years or so.)
Glad to read you made it back, Latigo Flint. At least until you pass on your seed to some lucky Barista.
Remind me to never die.
Wait, I'm an immortal anyway. No man can be my equal.
i thought that's where you were.
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