Mortality

                 Mortality

    “Yep,” Ernie thought, as he lay sprawled on his couch like a theme park,”another legend out the door.” Ah life! You got to take the beer with the sweet. Ernie had tried to find knickers for Payne Stewart’s tribute, but his legs were like a rhino, short,and hot pants with a forty inch waist were hard to come by, even at the gay resale shop.

      Ernie didn’t know what to do with life, much less death. When Mickey Mantle died, Ernie had a moment or silence, during which he thought,”Of course the man drank like a fish.” Privately he had hoped Mick willed his used Playboy collection to him. When he heard… where have you gone Joe DiMaggio…on the Mexican bandstand cable TV station, he knew just what to do. He went to the bar. There he found countless others drowning their sorrow over the demise of Joe, Jesus and Jake the mechanic who liked to beat on his wife a little.

       After Dad Bedlam passed nine months ago, Ernie had been left an orphan. He’d had great experience handling death. His advice, when asked was,”It’s tough, but don’t take it personally. If someone’s still pitching you got to come to the plate.”

        The only glitch in the picture occurred when Wilt Chamberlain recently passed. The man was too tall and had slept with too many women. This left Ernie totally befuddled and thirsty.

        When last seen, Ernie was furiously looking the bins at the used record store for a recording of Dylan’s “ The Hour When the Ship Comes in.” Once he found it, he ran home and watched re-runs of “Let’s Make a Deal and drank a six pack.

        Walter Payton’s death left Ernie speechless and morbid. He sat on the couch and listened to “ Dust in the Wind,” by Kansas and watched the witches Dorthy say, “Auntie Em, I want to come home.” There was no more sweetness in Chicago today. Ernie finally passed out, clutching Garcia, the Beanie Baby to his chest        November 7^th 1999