Yesterday, Deva posted:

>Can someone come over and help me? I don't want to die laughing.

My dear lady, I must disagree with you in the strongest possible terms.
It is my treasured hope that one day, when I am old and bent and
bedridden, a ferret will make me laugh so hard that I croak on the
spot. I imagine myself in an assisted living facility at 102, found
extremely dead, stiff as a board by some young candy-striper who cannot
fathom the huge grin on my face. The clues will be there... the faint
scrum of soft, gray hair on my blanket. The Frito-like scent that
wafts through the air. The fact that my room-mate's dentures are
missing...only an overturned glass of water and a puddle will remain
where her dentures are customarily set to rest overnight on an
end-table. Wet foot prints lead away, and disappear beneath the
heaviest piece of furniture in the place. And once the candy-striper
follows the trail, and gets down on her hands and knees to look
underneath my only regret will be that I didn't live long enough to
hear her SHRIEK as a damp weasel with an upper plate in its teeth
explodes out from under the dark place beneath that enormous arm
chair...

Alexandra in MA

[Posted in FML 6691]