Death Visits Suburbia
By Ivan O’Uris
Hi, may I help you?
Oh, Death, O.K.
That must be your hearse in my driveway.
May I see some identification, please?
Yeah, my driver’s license picture is bad, too.
My hair’s mussed up. I look like Death warmed over.
I didn’t mean it like that.
Let’s talk in the kitchen.
I can take your scythe.
Want some snickerdoodles?
I understand, watching your figure.
So how may I help you, Mr. Death?
Or is it Ms. Death?
That hood makes it hard to tell.
You’ve come for me.
Maybe you’ve made a mistake.
All the houses in Bellowing Hills are
Two stories with gray vinyl siding and have a double garage.
Besides, I do Pilates every day
And the phonebook is filled with Joneses.
True, I’m the only Jones at 1732 Belching Deer Road
And people who do Pilates can drop dead.
But I can’t go now.
How about later this week?
Let me get my Palm Pilot.
Tuesday’s my nephew’s soccer game,
I water the yard Wednesday, get the SUV serviced Thursday,
Then there’s that weekend metrosexual seminar at the Holiday Inn …
I’m not stalling! I’m trying to cooperate!
Ask your supervisor if you can reschedule.
You will? Great!
If you could e-mail me
When you find out something
And give me a heads up on when you’ll return,
So I could, you know, tell the loved ones toodleoo,
That would be wonderful.
Hey, maybe they could meet you!
We could have a farewell barbecue.
I grill a mean sirloin.
Oh, you’re a vegetarian.
I’ll grill you some Gardenburgers.
Listen, thanks for stopping by.
Keep in touch.
That must be a long trip back to the hereafter!
Let me give you something for the road.
How about some snickerdoodles?
Death Revisits Suburbia
By Ivan O’Uris
Dear Mr. Jones,
Forgive this note on your door.
(Can you read my writing?)
My computer keeps crashing
When I try to send e-mail.
(Lousy Compaq Presario!)
I keep getting your voicemail when I call.
I dropped by your office Thursday,
But you were playing golf with a client.
I’ll reimburse you for the hole in the wall.
I didn’t know your secretary would react like that.
Anyway, I spoke with my supervisor
And you may reschedule your death.
I’ll be on your block Sunday afternoon.
I could drop by around 1:30
After Mrs. Hampton drops dead while knitting.
I could plop her in my hearse and swing by,
Maybe bring some Gardenburgers
And we could have that barbecue you suggested.
You could then read, date and sign
The necessary paperwork
And pleasantly croak.
Please call 555-DEAD
And tell me if that will work.
(a.k.a., The Grim Reaper –
Or on casual occasions, Bob)
P.S.: Please make some more snickerdoodles.
Gabriel, St. Peter, Allah, Yahweh, the Great Spirit and Zeus
Want to try them.
Background Notes: Found by Ivan O’Uris scholars Mark Moyer, Erik Pointer and Shawn Roney, both poems resulted from a hallucination Ivan had from watching Love and Death, Monty Python’s The Meaning of Life and Office Space while sedated during his hospitalization for a severe paper cut. Pointer believes the poems show Ivan’s reflective side. Roney agrees, but believes they show Ivan being reflective not about life and death, as they might suggest, but rather, about the meaning of food, as the poems were found under a platter of snickerdoodles.
A Crumb of Info That Might Give Your Cerebellum the Sullied Sustenance It Needs to Sustain the Rest of Your Body For 50 More Years – and Even Give You the Push You Need to Do Internationally-Praised Research on Cornobeania, That Rare Condition Where One Feels the Urge to Repeatedly Bean Oneself with a Corncob: “Death Visits Suburbia” and “Death Revisits Suburbia” were originally published May 21, 2005, in The Examiner, a newspaper in Jackson County, Mo. It’s on The Examiner’s Web site under the archives section, but it reads the same here as it does there, except for some italicization changes and the omission of one phrase. If you want to go there and read it, too, that’s fine with us folks at Mutt Media LLC. However, it might piss off the one-horned, polka-dotted, zebra-striped albino Albanian antelope at Mutt Media LLC that the folks at Mutt Media LLC are vainly trying to train to recite “The Gettysburg Address” (and is of no relation to the infamous purple people eater, despite the similarities of their respective solitary horns).
To see the original cyber-text (and piss off the one-horned, polka-dotted, zebra-striped albino Albanian antelope), click on the following hyperlink: http://nl.newsbank.com/nl search/we/Archives?p_action=doc&p_docid=122CC072C951AA78&p_docnum=3&p_theme=gatehouse&s_site=EIMB&p_product=EIMB.
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