As I approach the one year anniversary of my dad’s death and think back on his life, it still irks me that his official obituary was an incoherent word salad that appeared to have been written by either a really smart monkey or really dumb human. (It was the latter)
So I decide to write my own obituary because after I die it will, of course, be too late to avoid the same fate. And here it is.
“McBitter passed away last night. Cause of death is unknown but she (probably) choked on her own rage. Bitter was the favorite child of her father, John and least favorite of her mother, Sue making her a typical middle child. She is survived by her brother Mike, who no longer has to worry she might show up unexpectedly in Singapore and bring shame upon that branch of the family and her sister Lisa, who has (maybe) forgiven Bitter for constantly beating her up when they were children. She wasn’t particularly beloved by family members since she almost always either flat-out forgot ( pre-Facebook) or was months late in sending birthday gifts. Bitter and her husband, Mr. Bitter, were Drunk Married by Fake Elvis in Vegas in 2011. They never had children because they actively disliked any child under the age of 7 – – except their nieces, Lindsey, Lauren, Lainey and Ellen. Together they founded and then quickly forgot about DAMM (Drunks Against Mad Mothers).
Her college career was distinguished by 8 consecutive semesters of academic probation and her family doubted that she actually graduated until finding a dusty old diploma stuffed in an empty Budweiser case with old pictures and a ceramic bong after her death. She was a member of Pi Beta Phi before they kicked her out for non-payment of chapter dues. Her sole achievement was racking up the largest fine in sorority history for skipping Rush Week and heading to New York City with three dudes in a (sort of) stolen car with suitcase full of LSD.
Bitter had a variety of careers including: bartender, truck driver, landscaper, dogsbody, DJ, event planning and worst of all, marketer. Along the way she worked for/with a plethora of loathsome people including a Trust Funder who embezzled from his sick elderly grandmother and (probably) molested his dog and a woman so consumed by jealousy that she pulled a gun and proceeded to shoot up the work place. Despite this, Bitter always said marketing was the most cut-throat job of all. She was so hated by her vendors, it’s surprising she didn’t end up a corpse in the trunk of an abandoned car at the airport.
During the Zombie Wars, she and husband Scott created the Border Collie College, a program to train herding breeds to move mobs of The UnDead towards and over the edge of deep old wells in the middle of nowhere – code named “Operation Lassie.” They also devised a weapon called Buster Gas, inspired by and named after the flatulent family dog. The gas, which smelled like an unconscious frat boy after a 4 day bender in Vegas, was used to lure The UnDead into Zombie Concentration Camps/dilapidated Walmart stores where they were burned for fuel.
Having survived a career in Marketing and the Zombie Apocalypse, her later years were uneventful and spent mostly cocktailing ( thanks to her new liver grown by the Tyrell Corporation) with her husband at their vacation home on the moon and drunk-posting anonymous content on the newly created Cyberdyneverse 360.
In lieu of flowers and donations – except for Alternative Lifestyle Friends who are expected to send fabulous floral arrangements – please just give that drunk bum on the corner a fiver or the old man muttering, “Get off my lawn” a huge hug. Because that’s what Bitter would have done.”
Please do not put my obit on any of those cheesy online obituary sites where people can openly post comments – even after death I prefer my numerous enemies not be able to have the last word. No need to worry about an epithet or a tombstone as I’ve asked Mr. Bitter to cremate me . Sadly, city ordinances prevent me from having a huge funeral pyre which I thought would be fitting since my soul ( if all those crazy Fundamental Christians are actually right) is also destined to burn (in the Flames of Hell).
PS: Since I’m still alive for now – let me know if you want me to write your obits as well – thinking about adding “Obituary Writer” to my list of occupations.
PSS: Also, I had Mr. Bitter freeze my DNA so when that new cloning technology gets approved by the FDA, I’ll be baacckkkkk.