Late, late, masturbate!

There are several ways I don't want to die.

One is to be hit in the head by a golf ball. Golf ball poisoning is what it's called in the biz. It's a euphemism to reassure the people that golfing isn't dangerous. I'm crying at how dangerous they are.

The second one is probably a sudden heart attack in the dead of night that kills me before I wake. I want to linger. I want to lay around and accuse people of not loving me enough. No sudden death, that's my motto.

Thirdly is Fetal alcohol Syndrome. I'm feeling good about my chances but I'm a worrier.

Fourthly is rabies. I've stopped touching my animals and children because they might have it. Anyone could have it. I know bats do. Bats and dogs. Bats bite dogs, dogs bite children. Rabies.

The fifthly is one that I'm dying from now. Conference call sickness. I have countered it with fatty granola but I fear I may die from it.

All other deaths are fine.