My Cause of Death

My Cause of Death

by
Dean Burkey

I’ve been sick and unable to connect to the Internet, which is, as Mitch Hedberg might’ve said: “A double whammy!” 

Still not feeling 100 %, and still can’t connect to the Internet, but I’m at the public library, where I hope I’m not becoming Patient Zero, the sneezy schlepp who inadvertently causes a mass pandemic that wipes out a humongous chunk of the population Bubonic Plague style. Not the way I wanna go. Yo!

Whenever I’m sick, I ponder what will be written as My Cause of Death. 

Being a comedian, part of me thinks it’d be great to have my demise be Something Silly. 

Like I was finger-painting the kitchen and got zapped when I tried to make the electrical socket purple. 

Or I juggled grenades and accidentally pulled out one of the pins. 

Or I tried to pet the pretty little platypus, which, at the moment of my demise, I suddenly recall from a report I wrote in sixth grade that her hind legs inject poison. 

Or maybe even Something Ironic, like I drowned trying to save a lifeguard. 

“Isn’t ironic? 

Yeah, I really do think.” 

-- Alanis Morissette. 

But since I’m more than just a comedian, Something Silly or Something Ironic aren’t really the ways I want to go. 

On the other hand, I don’t want to die of Something Serious either. Like being murdered, because that only enables the killer’s homicidal tendencies; and no one wants that, especially the victims. 

Or dying of some horrific disease, whether it’s merely the sniffles gone awry; or some major league disease that people refer to as “The Big” and then they add the first letter of the disease. Like “The Big R” for rickets. 

Or “The Big Silent P” for pneumonia.

So, in keeping with The Secret, I focus on my autopsy report listing My Cause of Death as None. That way I never die and live forever. In which case, I’ll sue the coroner who performs the autopsy on me! Or get him disbarred, defrocked, or whatever they do to coroners gone bad. At the very least, take away his formaldehyde aftershave. 

But then again, with The Secret, by focusing on My Cause of Death being None, I’ll probably get murdered by an angry Mother Superior who slits my jugular with a plastic child-safe pencil sharpener. 

In which case, My Cause of Death will be All of the Above (a.k.a. A Quadruple Whammy!): Something Silly, Something Ironic, Something Serious, and Nun. 

So instead of fearing 

some nightmarish death, 

I’ll keep 

living the dream. 

;o) 

Welcome to 2015*, 

The Year of Dean! 

All The Best,

Dean Burkey

* Don’t know why it didn’t occur to me sooner that both 2013 and 2014 could’ve been my years too, since they also rhyme with Dean! 

Photo Source: 
http://www.sherv.net/laughing-emoticons.html

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Food Phobia

Food Phobia

I’m afraid to eat food. The last time I did, didn’t go so well. Even though it was delicious, I’ve felt ill ever since. I feel so sick, that National Geographic explorers keep coming to my house. Apparently, when I don’t feel well, I make the exact same sounds as a dying yeti.

I just hope I’m not Patient Zero. You know, the schlep who’s the first to get sick with a major pandemic that wipes out half the Eastern Seaboard before the next commercial break.

I don’t want to be remembered for that! Instead, remember me for my sense of humor, thoughtfulness, and great legs.

Perhaps I should’ve asked if the Chocolate Coconut Pecan Cookies have pecans in them.

Oh sure, now everyone tells me they do. Why were they so secretive yesterday?

How was I supposed to know that the Chocolate Coconut Pecan Cookies have pecans in them? I thought that was just the name of the cookie; I didn’t know that was the recipe too.

So now I’m super dee duper hungry, but I dare not eat.

Fool me once food; shame on you. Fool me twice; and I don’t wanna be the putz who cleans up the mess.

Yikes! Found out the hard way that even a glass of water will cause incidents. I can’t not drink. But if I do stop drinking; and you find a pile of powder where I used to be, just for kicks, ‘cause it just might work, just add water; and stir! Instant Dean!

If hunger, thirst, and birth pangs aren’t bad enough, I don’t understand how I could have a 103 degree temperature; and still have the chilly shakes. How hot does a person need to be to escape the chilly shakes?

My fever was so high, my eyeballs felt hot. Made me think of the episode of Smallville where Clark gets heat vision.

I was like, “Really? Heat vision? All the powers of Superman; and You’re gonna give me one that’s easily replaced by a book of matches?”

I feel bad that I can’t go to church this morning, because my fever’s still 100.6. But at least my eyeballs don’t hurt.

The church needs me to attend, because my presence reassures everyone about the existence of Eternal Beauty.

Their words; not mine. I would say, as humbly as I can, Everlasting Handsomeness.

And they don’t say “Eternal Beauty” out loud, but I can tell what they’re thinking by the way they look at me. Of course, that’s true wherever I go. I’d be a multi-multi-billionaire if I got a quarter for every time I had to tell someone: “My eyes are up here.”

Did I not yet mention the delirium caused by such a high fever?

Not only does my high fever make me delirious, it also makes me forgetful too. Sadly, I feel like those characters in “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” as their memories get erased. 

In fact, the whole point of my writing this blog is to ...

?

Can’t remember now. But I’m sure it was important.

Blessings & Joy,

Dean