If I Should Die.

If, in the event of running a touchdown, I should fall dead, I’d like my teammates to pick me up and carry me over the goal line. Then, I’d like two of the tallest people on the team to do that cheerleading move where they take an arm and lift a cheerleader up and parade her around, only I think they should try and throw me in the air as high as possible and follow it up with the Ickey Shuffle. From there, I’d like a comical interlude made of trying to get me into the ambulance, maybe falling off the gurney once or twice. Make the people laugh once or twice more. Finally, I’d like to be buried at the 50-yard line. Immediately. And I’d like well wishers to dump some beer into the hole. Make sure my mouth is tilted upward, too.

Just in case I’m not really dead.

If, in the event of my death comes at a calm moment, for instance in my sleep then I would like you to ensure the calm doesn’t stay around. First, light a few candles. Then, go into my closet. In the box labelled “EMERGENCY ONLY” you’ll find sixteen packs containing five hundred firecrackers each. Open them and drape them across my body. From here, you’ll need to be fast. If you don’t think you can do it, call Tim. Tim’s fast with everything. You or Tim need to take the candles up to the bathroom. Maybe you should do it, and then have Tim go downstairs into the basement to blow out the pilot light on the furnace, and then turn the gas all the way up. Oh, make sure you close the windows, too.

From here, you need to get away, but, not too far away. When that explodes, you need to video tape it for the world to see.

I’ll be a youtube star yet, damnit.

If I should die between the thighs of some sweet young thing (though at my age, it’s likely some leathery, glove type thing) then there should be a steel rod inserted into my arm for high fives while I’m laying in state. Don’t worry — I’ll be dead and won’t feel it. Just do it. I don’t think people can cry in the presence of a guy waiting for a high five.

Just promise me you won’t take me to the German funeral home down the road. I can only imagine what they’ll do.

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