Toward the end of every month I publish the parting thought of a person who died no longer that two weeks ago. His corpse is pretty ripe by then because he was embalmed. placed in a coffin and buried.
This month’s parting thought is Andy’s, a 62 y/o man from St. Paul, MN. He owned a bar on Snelling close to the Macalaster College campus. We both played softball at Mac many years ago. I pitched and he batted. Once he puffed his little Nordic chest at me, boasting to me and all in attendance, that HE was “gonna try to, ya know, hit that pitcher(me), ya know, right in the head.” I thought Macalaster prided itself on its extreme selectivity. However, this little cocksucker wiggled his way in somehow – must have been a legacy.
A N Y W A Y – he didn’t hit my head with the softball… if he had..haha… I had a German Luger stashed in my gunny sack. I ripped it off some weedy Nazi brat I killed in WWII, European Theater. Ran my bayo through his neck and “it hurt”.
So, nothing happened, which is good, because I would have traded in my life, why? to blow the head off this Nazi collaborator? He was a Norwegian and he turned his mother and father into the Quisling secret police for a shot of snoosola. You imagine such perfidy?
Andy sort of of crapped out his life. Didn’t make much of himself: you figure a Mac grad would end up a lawyer or doctor in Chicago or St. Louis, but he stayed in St. Paul. He spent thirty years as a lounge act, playing guitar and singing at Holiday Inns, and other important hotel franchises, around the Twin Cities.
Booze was always in his reach and he drank and drank and drank, ending up a disgusting drunk. At the end, his hands started shaking so bad he would frequently drop his instrument while performing. Andy had to exit the entertainment business without even seven cents in his savings account.
However, Andy still had friends and one staked him forty thousand dollars so he could buy this bar. The Barre Bar, I think it was.
Then one night, Andy dropped dead: I don’t know the particulars. I refused to attend his calling hours but I did fly to ST. Paul on my private jet and drove by the funeral home. Pretty goddamn big of me, don’t you think?
Poor ole Andy has now been dead two weeks – his family embalmed him and buried him in the cold. cold ground. Now before his brain turns to cottage cheese, he wants to play “You Know What I Think? You Know What I Think? Tell Me!”
Go ahead, Andy:
“You know how everybody talking about the Drunk Uncle at Christmas dinner and he wants to kill blacks, Jews, Muslims the whole shaboo. If your Drunk Uncle has a Drunk Uncle you think that Drunk Uncle is necessarily an even worse Drunk Uncle than your Drunk Uncle?”
Andy, what do you think?
I agree Andy.
Next month’s guest hasn’t died yet.