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 | Obituaries of the
Van Gogh-Goghs |
- Benson, Alan
- When I think about dying, I'm like a kid in a candy store. I just have so many options! To experience what it's like being me, I present my Choose-Your-Own-Death-Adventure.
Your adventure as Alan begins early one morning in the year 2030. You are lying face-down on your stained Mattress-O-Pad D-Luxe oblong sleep-inducing unit, still half-asleep after a restless, sweaty night of tossing about and mumbling about "the Kaiser." Your Electro-Wake sleep elimination begins to chirp, awakening you for another long day at the cryo-mine.
As one of the pit masters, it is your job to ride on the back of one of the mechano-lifts (biomechanical monsters used to clear space rocks out of the canyon-like pit), so it's vital that you get a full eight cycles of sleep. Last night, you got three.
You lay still, slowly taking account of your situation. You're 59, living alone in one of the residence cubes high above Neo Los Angeles, one cyber pet (a NeoDog brand personal companion unit), and a string of bitter ex-wives now living high on the hog in the off-world colonies. You light up an electrocig and feel it massage your T-zones, then heave yourself up for your morning ritual.
After you've washed the remains of the chicken guts off your hands, you begin to ponder the innards's message. According to them, you "have a big decision to make today." You find yourself obsessively turning this phrase over and over in your head. What could it mean?
Do you fret about it
or just push it out of your
head?
- Black, Galen
- After losing his life savings to a computer in an ill-conceived, "I bet
my life savings I can beat you at Scrabble" game, Galen Black took his own
life. In a landmark trial, Galen Black was found guilty of murder in the
first degree in the killing of himself. His lawyers tried several
defenses, including arguing the murder was actually a suicide.
Their case was rebuffed by the prosecuting lawyer's brilliant counter
argument, "Come on, do you expect us to believe that crap?" Galen's
attorneys asked for a life sentence or the death penalty. Instead the
jury sentenced him to 99 years in prison, thus delaying a proper
Christian burial and prolonging his soul's stay in limbo. Galen was
released after serving 15 years of the sentence. Some said it was because
of good behavior, others claimed it was those "special" favors he did
for the warden that won the reduced jail time.
- Childs, T. Mike
- excerpted from I Know Funny - My Memoirs, Vol. 19 (unpublished)
...and much thought have I given to the contemplation my own demise, so frequently have I felt the Grim Reaper's
chill breath just above and to the right of the nape of my neck. My first brush with the great beyond came as my trophy wife slowly poisoned me,
tired of my increasingly frequent and bizarre sexual demands.
My habit of slipping table scraps to the pet peacocks saved my life as it simultaneously ended theirs.
The animal cruelty people still refuse to believe it an accident.
Then, experimenting with autoerotic asphixiation, I nearly died when I had a severe allergic reaction to the hemp rope,
causing my throat to almost close completely. Fortunately the maid was familiar with emergency tracheotomy techniques,
having seen that particular episode of M*A*S*H.
And how can I ever forget the time I fell down a flight of stairs after slipping on some doggie doo?
Oh, how the entire wedding party laughed! Especially my lovely new bride- her melodious braying floated across the churchyard like that of some heavenly mule.
And no recounting would be complete without mentioning the "waterpik" incident, the night I spent in a freighter's bilge tank
and the entire, sad, "overaffectionate elephant" affair.
Alas, my brushes with death have been so ignominious. If only I could perish in a boating accident! That's the way to go,
in a boating accident down at the marina. Classy. With perhaps some mysterious circumstances, bordering on suspicious,
just to titillate the palate. For myself, I fear not death, as I shall live on, immortal, here, in these words, in this memoir,
that shall be on the lips of every school child as soon as my agent Morty comes through for me...
- Rempel, Charles
- The account of Charles' death is best described here, in the Daytime Emmy Award nominated play, The Obituary of Charles Rempel.
- Terrell, Robert
- Robert Terrell was ironically killed by the other members of his comedy group when they became infuriated he was late turning in his fictional obituary.
- Torchinsky, Jason
- July 7-X, 2051
LUNAR BASE 71, AMERICAN SECTOR— Noted has-been Jason Torchinsky died
today of boredom complications while waiting for his opportunity to
perform at the Lafftron 3000 open mike night.
Lafftron 3000, a run-down franchised comedy club on New Pico Blvd. in
the New Los Angeles settlement hosts a regular LunarMonday night 'New
Faces' show. Torchinsky, while hardly a new face, was scheduled to
perform sometime around 4:15 am, as part of his most recent bid to
kick-start his long dormant career.
Ironically, the club's franchise is owned by the legendary T. Michael
Childs, a former comedy partner of Torchinsky when they were both in a
group called the Van Gogh-Goghs. Childs, who rose to fame with his
amazing "Grandfather reminds me of Yoda" routine, has been estranged
from Torchinsky for the past 15 years.
Torchinsky made headlines in the early 20s by being the first comic to
regularly perform on the international space station Freedom. Later, the
entire Van Gogh-Goghs were brought to the station to broadcast their
weekly sketch show, 'Spazzes in Space'. This show brought lifetime fame
and adulation to the other 5 members of the group.
He was also the only survivor of the now infamous wreck of the Freedom,
an accident which cost the United States hundreds of billions of dollars
and the former state of Florida. As the only person on the station at
the time of the disaster, much of the blame fell on him and cast his
career into a downward spiral from which it has never recovered.
"He was a fundamentally sad man, but I do have fond memories," said
Torchinsky's former cat, Effie, now enhanced with the feline-speech
processing chip and robotic humanoid body.
"I remember as a kitten we'd play in the yard a lot. And, I'd eat bugs.
I'll miss him." Effie is currently an Earth-to-Mars shuttle pilot.
Torchinsky is survived by his estranged wife, Ira Kathryn Cook Torchinsky, and his
robot son Claxmo9 Torchinsky.
 Up to The Morbid Page.
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