This time tomorrow I will be on my way home from a fantastic Lincoln City victory away at York. I will be tired but happy and I may have even stopped in at a well known American fast food chain to refuel my appetite, having used all my energy up in cheering for our many, many goals.
However, what if I'm not doing that?
What if our car crashed?
What if I'm dead?
It's something that I haven't spent a long time thinking about. After all, it seems like a waste of time worrying about the end, doesn't it? But I did think about it just this minute. Just then an image came into my head of a world after I had gone and I realised how little difference I have made.
The world would be largely the same. What a let down.
Sure, a couple of people would mourn. My dad would, if he had somehow survived the car crash that had killed me (he would have been in York too, also watching us win... a statement which may seem silly if I am actually still alive this time tomorrow.) My mum would also mourn, she may even have a breakdown because she is an artist and they are a bit crazy anyway. And then my sister, who would mourn but in a silent sort of way because she is hard. The rest of my family would say, "He was such a nice boy," and, "He had so much potential," and I hope they would play The Great Escape theme music at my cremation in an attempt to somehow convince my corpse that it too can escape to the freedom of life again. Although if they played it as I was going into the fire it may prove to be too late...
Still I'd rather that then it happen during burial. My worst fear is being buried alive and that would be even more rubbish if I got buried alive having been magically resurrected in the first place.
Some of my friends might be a touch upset too, not that I have that many. You're all invited to the funeral though, if you're reading this. If not then I do not want you there as you clearly only liked me for my looks and not the dark genius that hid deep beneath the surface.
But apart from that, my parting would not leave much of a gap in the world. My work would have one more empty desk and one less request for tea in the morning (the whole organisation might crumble without me, but it seems unlikely. Fingers crossed though, I'd like to feel special) and my cricket team would have to replace me with another mediocre leg spin bowler/ covers fielder and tail end batsman but that could be done without much fuss. Not much trouble, really. If they were feeling really nice they might name a competition after me like some other team did and play it in the pre-season every year, although not during the Englang v Germany World Cup match like said other team did as that would tarnish my name and ruin everyone's day.
After that I would likely fall into obscurity.
Not much would be different.
I would not leave a massive mark.
Which is a shame, really. I'd like to leave a mark. I would like to leave people thinking, "Hey, that Ash was alright," but not just in a "he never murdered anyone or stole any kids" kind of way. No, I'd like to be alright in a more substantial sense of the word. I'd like people to find some of my writing, say, and like it. Maybe publish it. By all means feel free to use my death as a marketing tool. Be as harsh and satirical as you like if it makes the book sell a bit better.
Also the minute after I die I would like there to be jokes made. None of this being respectful nonsense. I would like to be remembered as I lived; having no regard for other's feelings if I can say something funny instead. This is how my memory should be treated. Something along the lines of, "He would have appreciated dying from something that rhymed with his name," would do the trick for starters. That's not too mean, not too nasty. Hell, that would even make a good bit of wording on my tombstone. Get it sorted, yeah?
Death, ey. It offers so many good opportunities for a good giggle that we just pass up on to preserve heart. Seems like such a waste.
If this one blog post is my lasting legacy I would be alright with that. It would be nice to die tomorrow, really. Not nice because I want to die (because I haven't made a mark yet. Gosh, haven't you been paying attention?) but because if I did die on the way back from a Lincoln City victory away at York in a car crash people would at least remember me for being that one who predicted how he would die in a blog post. That would be cool.
It's a pity I'd be too dead to exploit the opportunity that such an event would open up for me, but all the best people are only famous after they have gone. After all, no-one accuses Michael Jackson of having sex with their children anymore. That happened a fair bit when he was still alive.
Things have worked out well for him.
Fingers crossed.
