Write your obit before you leave…

 

This post first published on Nov. 22, 2013…

It was a court proceeding in a weird drug case. Woman loved to get high on coke, especially by injection. Problem was, she had an intense fear of needles.

So she’d go out with some friends. They’d hold her down and shoot her up. And the hold her down part was for real. She would put up a fight with everything she had.

A judge was gonna decide whether the fact that she died after one of these little parties was purely an accidental overdose, or whether her buddies oughta be charged with manslaughter.

Their defense: It was what she wanted. Prosecutor: This is some nasty stuff and somebody needs to go away for awhile.

Judge agreed. The party gang got held over for trial.

So I write about what a sinister thing it is for a drug to be so enchanting that someone would subject themselves to their worst fear to enjoy it. And keep doing it.

I get a phone call the next day from a guy who says the dead girl was his sister. And he does not appreciate the fact that I held up her dirty laundry for everybody to read about. He’s pretty pissed. Says he’s gonna shoot me with his new deer rifle.

He proceeds to tell me what kinda car I drive and where I live. He is correct on both counts. At the time, I lived a good ways outa town, no listed phone, etc. Mebbe he’s been following me.

I try to reason with him, no luck. So I hang up. Guy who sits next to me has overheard some of this, asks what it was all about. I tell him.

Then I go to lunch. When I get back, my boss calls me into his office.

What’s this about a death threat?

Not a big deal, I say. Guy’s pretty upset right now. It’ll blow over.

But my boss is totally pissed off. Don’t you ever get a death threat without telling me about it, he says.

No big deal, I say.

I’m not concerned about your frickin safety, he says.

I want you to write your obit before you leave.