I always thought I was going to die because some punk kid comes by on a skateboard and knocks me down. Of course because I am like in my late eighties, I break my hip and then die. Although I will be honest, I am not too sure how breaking my hip will then cause me to die. Are there organs by our hips? I don’t know science was never a good subject for me. True story, my ninth grade science teacher made me so upset one day after school that I was literally hysterical crying. I couldn’t even call my mother on the phone to tell her to come and get me from school. So I walked home and crossed a very busy highway. My mother was about to kill that teacher. However, he got fired anyhow because he was a douche bag.


But I digress.


I now know how I am going to die. I still contend that I will be an old lady. I will not wear purple, but I know that I will probably be wearing a tracksuit and it will have tons of rhinestones and glitter. I will also have my lips outlined in Channel red and my lipstick will be on my teeth. I may smell like strong perfume (Burberry or Chantilly) and cat urine. I am hoping that the cat urine won’t be real, but the rate my life is going, I will have twenty cats all waiting for the day I kick it so they can eat my eyes. Why they want my eyes specifically, I don’t know. They are cats; they do crazy things.


Again, I digress.


Here is what is going to happen to me. I am going to be that old lady who steals things. I will steal not because I can’t afford the things; we all know that I will be this super famous writer, so money won’t be an issue. I will be stealing because I am old and I will think it is fun. Again, I am old, so really I can’t go on roller coasters and vacations will be boring. I will enjoy seeing the sales clerks’ reaction to this old bedazzled lady rolling all up in their store and just taking stuff. I could claim I was doing research for a book, but since that defense really doesn’t seem to work that well, I will need to result to the disoriented old lady who can’t remember how she even got to the store.


This will only work for a few times and then they will catch on to me. Of course I will make notes as to which store I have hit up and how many times I have played my role. But what I won’t be able to prepare for is the sales clerk who gets fired for accusing the old lady of stealing, when she clearly is just confused, shows up at a new store. We will lock eyes, but it is too late. I already have twenty pairs of sunglasses in my bag along with three thongs (they are there just to prove how disorientated I am…I mean, I am an old lady, what do I need thongs for?). But he knows my tricks. He is already telling the security guard to watch me.


I accidentally brush another couple of items into my bag (a three piece hair brush set and some cat treats…to keep the cats away from my eyes). I mean, I have to appear like I don’t know I am stealing even though I totally am stealing. The security guard whips out his taser gun and shoots me. Too bad no one told him I had a pace maker and he just shorted it out. My heart stops and I am dead.


They feel like they just stopped another criminal from stealing. But in reality, they just killed an old lady who survived more things then they will ever have to face in their lives. They are proud of themselves; but the nation isn’t. They just killed everyone’s favorite author. Their names will be Mudd.