Saturday, December 31, 2005

David Terrenoire R.I.P.



I heard a story on NPR yesterday about obituaries written by the departed's family. Being writers, we certainly don't want to leave our obits in the hands of amateurs who would focus on trivialities like surviving family members. I mean, who is this about, anyway?

So your end of the year assignment is:

Write your own obit in 50 words or less. Non-fiction writers must stick to the facts. The rest of us can do what we always do and make shit up. Happy New Year and we'll see you in 2006.

This is mine:

David was a convivial drinker who quit once but didn't see the point. He was a writer of fiction and his books have entertained dozens of readers. In lieu of flowers, donations should be sent to the Blue Bayou Blues Club to pay for Another Round.

7 comments:

Jim Winter said...

Jim Winter:

He should have had that looked at.

Jerry said...

He Outlived All His Expectations

Ray said...

Ray Banks:

"I told you I was ill."

Had no original thoughts, but at least stole from the best...

Jerry said...

I was listening to some Tom Waits last night and remembered that I always wanted the last verse of the song "Swordfishtrombones," as my obit. I think it goes like this- Some say he's doing the obituary mambo, some say that he's hanging on a wall, some say this yarn's the only thing that holds this man together, some say that he was never here at all. Some say they saw him down in Birmingham, sleeping in a boxcar going by, and if you think that you can tell a bigger tale, I swear to God you'll have to tell a lie...

Al said...

Al Guthrie:
"Fuck off and stop staring."

Stephen D. Rogers said...

"If this improved sales, please knock twice."

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