Published by From The Asylum
She: What would you say if I died?
He: I’d say, ‘my, what a strange day for her to die.’
She: Why would you say that?
He: Well, I always figured you’d die on a Tuesday.
He was holding a novel, but watching ‘When Animals Attack’ with the mute button on.
He: What’s wrong?
There was a pause.
On the television, a bear bit a woman’s arm clean off.
He: You didn’t like my answer.
She: No that’s not it. I don’t know.
He: Did you think that you’d die on a Friday instead?
She: Friday? Why Friday?
He: I don’t know. That way you’d get to live out the week
He: It’s always nice to feel fulfilled at the end. Of something.
She: But what about Saturday and Sunday? Shouldn’t I die on a Sunday if I wanted to live out the week? Feel fulfilled at the very end?
He: Well.I guess I’m going by the work week.
There was a pause.
On the television, a dog sprang onto an elderly man’s back.
He: Why what?
She: Why are you going by the work week?
He: Well.a work week is Monday to Friday.
She: I know what it is; I’m asking why you are going by it. I mean, it’s not like I’m going to go to work the week before I’m going to die.
She crossed her arms.
He: Well.you would if you didn’t know you were going to die.
She uncrossed her arms.
She: I suppose that’s true.
He: Of course it’s true.
She: That’s depressing.
There was a pause.
No one was attacked; it was a commercial break.
She: Let’s have sex.
He: I don’t really feel like it.
She: Why not?! You did a few minutes ago.
He: Yes, but now I’m thinking about work.
She sat back in the pillows.
He: Yes. And you dying. But work, mostly.
She: Interesting train of thought.
He: I agree.
They both nodded.
The television flickered.
She: What would you say at my funeral?
He: To whom, the guests?
She: No, during my eulogy.
He: Well, that’s addressed to the guests.
She: Yes, I guess in a formal way. I suppose so. I’m sorry.
He: That’s alright. Anyway, what would I say to the guests for your eulogy.?
She: Take your time. It’s an important sentiment.
He: No, I’ve got it. I’d say ”.and he sailed off through night and day and in and out of weeks and almost over a year to where the wild things are.’ Thank you all for coming.’
He: Yes. I know. Thank you.
On the television was an advertisement for lemon pine sol.
She: How does an excerpt from a children’s book serve as a proper eulogy?
He: Well, you know “Where the Wild Things Are” communicates on so many levels.
She: I guess I was just hoping for something a little more personal.
He: No, you just can’t get more personal than that. What book better captures life’s journey? Children’s literature truly touches the soul.
On the television a jellyfish attached itself to a child.
She: What will you say when you die? Your last words, like on your death bed.
He: On a Tuesday?
She: Does that matter?
He: Ha! Of course it matters! My words would change according to the day.
She: Okay, well yes on a Tuesday then. What would you say?
He: Well, I think I’d say ‘See you all tomorrow’
She: But you wouldn’t be around tomorrow.
He: It’s nice to get a rise out of people, scare them a bit. Even on a Tuesday.
She: Even at the end you mean.
He: No, I mean even on a Tuesday. Terribly boring day.
She: Oh. Yes, okay.
She pressed her hand into the bedspread and watched the impression fade.
He: Why, what will you say when you die?
She: I think I’m going to say ‘Sweep me up’. Those were Kierkegaard’s last words.
He: Oh yes? Why would you want to steal someone else’s last words?
She: I can’t think of anything more appropriate. Besides he was much smarter than I am and more famous.
He: You aren’t famous at all.
She: Exactly. Plus I doubt I’d be as poetic as all that while I die. I’d probably wind up embarrassing myself with confessions. Better off memorizing someone else’s last words.
He: Very interesting point. You probably wouldn’t say anything particularly memorable, I mean not memorable enough to go into books and stuff.
She: Right. It’s better to be prepared. And I just figure that chances are, someone else has already said what I want to say anyway, but better than I can say it. I might as well use theirs.
They both stared at the screen. She brushed his hand.
She: .are you ready for sex now?
He: Oh! Yes, sure.
She: I’m sorry, did I startle you?
He: Yes. No. Not at all. I mean, well I was just wondering why they put Sunday at the beginning of the week on calendars.
She: As part of the work week?
He: No, no, just at the beginning. It’s like, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday and so on. Saturday is at the very end, separate from Sunday.
She: It’s definetly worth deliberaiting. You could write them a letter.
She: I don’t know.
She: I like Sundays.
He: Yes, much better day than Tuesdays.
She: Of course.
He: Dreadful day, Tuesday.
She: Oh, yes.
On the television a tiger waited patiently, as a man slowly slipped from a tree.