When I Go

Gerry's Corner: I've been thinking over this death thing again, and I have more ideas about it:

• If possible, I'd like to die on a weekend. I don't want the regular news anchors to have to be bothered with reporting my death - they work so hard all week, and it'd be nice for those weekend folks to have a chance at some big news. Of course, it's really only 'big' news, because it would be one thing if, like, Jimmy Carter or Dwight Eisenhower died, but I'm just The Guy Who Replaced Nixon. I don't know if history textbooks even include me. So, throw a bone to the weekend guys.

• If I have to die on a weekday, make it in the wee hours of the morning, so that the morning shows can cover it and the news doesn't pre-empt anyone's regular programming choices, like soaps or - heaven forbid - primetime! No one tuning in to CSI: Miami or Prison Break wants to hear about some old guy's death. I mean, sure, if I'd gone on a murderous rampage and was holed up in a bank or something with hostages, on a suicidal standoff with the po-po, that would be one thing - it would make good TV. But just me passing from here into the beyond - "slipping the surly bonds of Earth to touch the face of God," as Reagan put it - that's borrrrrrring.

• Now, if I do have to die during the early afternoon, I have a novel idea. Don't make the news anchors waste their afternoons on me - they've got their evening news to consider, and since there are plenty of people who kick it every day, I doubt I'd make it onto their broadcasts. Instead of breaking into regularly scheduled programming with boring news people, let's let the soap opera writers work the news into their shows! For example:

Scene One



The Lady: Did you do it? Did you kill him?

That Guy: Ex-President Gerald Ford? It was my pleasure, my sweet.

Lady: Excellent. Now, we can finally get married!

Guy: But...aren't we related?

Lady: Not anymore - ever since I found out that Andrew had faked your parents' names on your birth certificate to match mine.

Guy: You mean the parents I never knew because I was adopted by my psychotherapist's wet nurse as an infant?

Lady: Yes, after your psychotherapist died in that tragic taxicab accident.

Guy: Well, remember - he didn't die in that accident. He was in a coma for four seasons, er, years before Julia finally put him out of his misery.

Lady: When she mistook him for his twin brother, Val?

Guy: Yes - hey, you know what? I didn't kill ex-president Gerald Ford. That was just a lie to get you to respect me.

Lady: Wha-?! Oh, you're just like my step-uncle, who lied all the time so I would respect him, until he was eaten by a tiger. How could you?

Guy: Well, it's just - he died before I could kill him. He was an old man.

Lady: Oh. All right - I guess Val must have got to him first. Maybe Val's the man for me.

Guy: But, my sweet-

Lady: Enough! Let's not spend anymore time on this! You know what would convince me that you truly love me? I have the most insatiable craving for blueberry tea - will you fetch me some at the store?

Guy: Um, sure.

Scene Two



Guy: Excuse me.



Store Clerk (visibly upset): Hello? Yes, can I help you?

Guy: Hey, man - are you okay?

Clerk: Yes, I was just - it's ex-President Gerald Ford. Did you hear he's passed?

Guy: Yes, but that's not important. I've come for some blueberry tea.

Clerk: You miserable fool! You can only get that in Maine!

Guy: But - I need it. It's for the girl I love.

Clerk: Well, if you promise not to tell anyone, I've got a secret stash of blueberry tea from the last time I went to Maine, to help my sister-in-law escape from the insane asylum that my best friend had forced her to enter.

Guy: All right, great - I'd love some of that tea.

Clerk (while rummaging around in a cabinet): So...you drink tea often?

Guy: Me? Oh, I always drink tea in the morning.

Clerk: What about when it's cold outside?

Guy: Then I like to drink tea in the morning, afternoon, and evening.

Clerk: Do you consume anything else besides tea?

Guy: No, I always drink tea.

Clerk: How many boxes of this stuff do you want?

Guy: I always drink tea in Arab restaurants.

Clerk (looks suspiciously at Guy): What was that?

Guy: I always drink tea in Arab restaurants.

Clerk: I see. Well, that'll be twenty-five dollars.

Guy: I love to drink tea in Arab restaurants.

Clerk: Are you trying to tell me something?

Guy: You never catch on, do you? Thanks for the tea.

Clerk (picks up telephone, dials number): Hello, Soaptown Police? Yes, I'd like to report a suspicious character...yes, I know about ex-President Gerald Ford's demise.

And, Scene: Everybody's gots to have their stories!

There is no Soviet domination of Eastern Europe,
Gerry