Regrets From Dying With Finished Business

According to one camp of paranormal enthusiasts, ghosts are people who died with unfinished business. That’s a misnomer. Nobody who died with unfinished “business” actually stuck around to finish it. It’s usually something like a brutal murder or mischievous soul that creates a ghost. The Queen Mary isn’t plagued by the tormented souls of people who neglected to finish their mileage reimbursement form.

Image from Julie Fiveash Tumblr

This past week a tornado hit about 10 minutes from where I was finishing a bunch of chores. If I had died AFTER buying disposable duster refills, I might come back as a ghost just out of spite, or to hastily do things to make it look like I died doing something more interesting. It wouldn’t have to be strategically placing tabs of LSD and an escaped (liberated) monkey near my rented Tesla. It could be checking out a library book and putting a bookmark 220 pages in, anything to make it look moderately more interesting than having died after buying an industrial sized box of anti-gas medicine.

This is why the adage, “life every day like it’s your last,” is a terrible adage for garbage people, because if you did, your house would be filthy, you probably wouldn’t have a house, and no one would like you because you’d never return a text or email. As I was driving home, I imagined my last moments, the last sparks of my dying brain being neutered rage (so I would die how I lived) because my final taste of life was spent making sure I remembered that coupon for a nickel off at Target if I spend $55 or more.

He does realize the tornado will tear up the lawn, too, doesn’t he? He should at least be masturbating to make his last moments fulfilling.

Then there would be the added insult of a tornado having whisked away all the stuff I spent my lunch break buying. It would be like a roofer putting the last shingle on the roof of an abacus factory and tripping on the last rung down, hitting his head on a rock and causing him to fling the first cigarette he’s had in two years onto the factory’s roof, burning 18 shingles, just enough to have to hire another roofer to finish the job and erase even that trace of dying with a sense of satisfaction at having completed a final masterpiece that he definitely half-assed, not knowing it was his final roof.

I would rather die, be buried in a Pet Cemetery, then come back as a murder-zombie that somehow has the instinct to do laundry before getting my face bashed in with a shovel by the wily neighbor kid I tried to cannibalize, than have just finished folding the fitted sheet

It would give me a measure of comfort to know the Reaper has to edge the yard. Source

when a heart attack takes me. I’d rather die in a freak frisbee golf accident, have everyone abandon me on the course, and have my carcass found three days later with a possum using my rectum as its burrowed out den, than get in a fatal car accident with my final accomplishment being proper use of my blinkers after just being the person who divided the restaurant bill between 6 people and those people later realizing I didn’t do it right.

But, Death is a swift and haphazard  instrument of brutality. It doesn’t care if I just sewed a button back on a shirt I haven’t worn in over a year before ferociously waylaying you. I guess I shouldn’t worry about it…or start creating an internet history that makes it seem like I had something intriguing going on beyond my trunk full of bleach wipes and unsalted chips.

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14 Comments

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  1. My husband set the DVR for “Fear the Walking Dead” on Sunday night. Yesterday we watched it. There was a part that had us laughing because I had the notion of what if a long time ago when I first started watching the show.

    There was a husband and wife and they loved to dance. The man was woken up by the now dead wife attacking him. So he started to dance with her as she tried to bite him. She couldn’t bite him because her teeth were in the glass of water by the bed. It was hilarious.

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  2. Glad to see the Grim Reaper has FINALLY moved with the times by trading in his scythe for a whipper-snipper. I don’t care if I’m doing something mundane when I die. In fact, I would prefer it, as opposed to being struck down in the middle of doing something embarrassing. Like playing with my Captain America and Winter Soldier action figures and making them assume a . . . shall we say . . . compromising position? Nobody needs to know that aspect of my personality.

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  3. It’s true. Every time someone quits their job at the place I work, we find tons of files they had been trying to avoid working on for the past 9 months. Far from hanging around for unfinished business, they leave because of unfinished business and we won’t be seeing them again, lest we remind them of the crap they left us with.

    Same goes for me when I die. The relatives who will inevitably get stuck with having to clean out my wreck of a town house are going to hate me for it.

    I’ll do the dishes tonight, though, but only because I don’t believe I’m going to die tonight and don’t want the things to be still lying around tomorrow.

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  4. I hope I die right after getting laid and having the biggest orgasm of my life. Or maybe having gigantic multiple orgasms.

    Love,
    Janie

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  5. I like the idea of of leaving behind an internet persona that is between superhero and the world’s most interesting man. Reality is so mundane for most of us.

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  6. abeerfortheshower June 29, 2017 — 6:42 pm

    I think if I died in the middle of typing this comment that I’d definitely come back as a vengeful spirit to haunt y

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  7. As long as someone finds my body before my cat starts eating me, i’m good.

    Also ideally i have my pants on. but beggars cant be choosers i guess…

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  8. Oh man, I mean, oh Pickle, you really bummed me out. But then I read your comments. Hey, Jono, stop by my place first. I’d say after Janie’s but I have a feeling she’d wear you down more than I would. As much as I go through and purge, trash, recycle, donate, I have so much crap. I love my surviving family members and don’t want them stuck with it. I wonder if there’s a way to arrange for people I don’t like to have to go through my stuff when I die. And now my main goal in life is to die immediately after (or in the course of) having multiple orgasms.

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