Sunday Scribblings: How I met my...

The prompt over at Sunday Scribblings is “How I met my…”
Sort of lends itself to a journal entry. However, I like to use SS to push my fiction boundaries.
So here, you go, a Drabble, a piece of short fiction, in 100 words.

Adios, Amigos

The prognosis was tubes, lots of them, hooked to several parts of my person that I was assured would not lend itself to dignity or merriment.
Mention Stage 4 and I’ve seen the faces go ashen. It quickened my pulse.
I sold my shit, all of it. I gave the money to charity.
I traveled, ran up huge credit card bills, since I only go first class. I ate and I drank without fear of cholesterol or calories.
The day before this one, the day I will meet my death, I wrote a check.
It’s going to bounce. Sue me.


Anonymous said...

Whoo-hoo! That’s the way to go!

SlyGly said...

Very intriguing! More! I'm curious for an expansion on this day before today.

present said...

yup, blood pressure don't matter and you can't get money from a dead it up while you can!

Granny Smith said...

This is the first time that I have seen dying as fun! Laughter in a small package.

Anonymous said...

Many years ago,my mother gave credit to a very young mother with a large family. The lady would send a small amount at irregular intervals, sometimes a year apart, in payment on the debt.

Mother sent her a letter saying the bill has been paid in full, even though it hadn't. Yet the payments continued.

Why does she do that? I asked.

Mostly because of her honesty, partly because of her dignity, my mother said.

Generations have gone by. The lady has great-grandchildren by now, the ones I know have honesty and dignity, and are people known and loved by many.

She passed on years back, but her name deserves mention. Kitty Eades, very nice looking on the outside, ultimately beautiful on the inside.

Good times and self-indulgence are not a worthy trade for earned love.

Melody said...

Out with a bang! Great writing, nice and tight.