Velociworld

DIRGE DITTY

Key Monroe asked me why I hadn't made good on my promise, or threat, to write an epitaph for her comatose blogsite. Because, I said, I didn't consider it dead. Just neglected. I was merely attempting to mortify her into writing something once in a while, so that we didna have to send out the death-smeller bloodhounds.

But a threat is a threat, and where I come from you'd better make good on your threats if you want to keep your game, so I penned one.

Now, I always feel death should be treated as a humorous affair, in order to lessen the deep anguish of the affected. That's why I always go to a viewing or wake and crack wise. Always have a joke or two. As in

I'm very sorry about the loss of your beloved Khaitlyn to crib death. But did you hear the one about the Eskimo and Sasquatch?!?

Slays 'em. No pun intended. And so I decided to forgo the normal epitaph, and devise a limerick instead, they being fun, and ribald by nature.

For Key Issues:

Here lyeth the corpus of Key
A site we once liked to see
If she doesn't post soon
I will act the buffoon
And guest blog 'bout sitting to pee!

Desperate times, desperate measures. Of course, my place is on life support, in need of a critical transfusion, but the designated hemoglobins and platelets absolutely refuse to be injected. They apparently have a union.