I've mentioned before that my living will stipulates that Allie controls my plug. I can't imagine anyone more predisposed to pulling it, so it's a win/win for everyone.
Meanwhile, my actual will directs her to spread my ashes over Heinz Field in Pittsburgh. This was merely annoying to her pre-9/11, but now that scattering white powder over a stadium will surely come with a penalty, she is decidedly unhappy. My will provides for her airfare, dust cropper rental and bail, but nothing satisfies the selfish little thing.
She does not want to be cuffed and stuffed because of me. It's recently occurred to her that her salvation lies in her dual role. "If you're in a coma," she coos, "I'm keeping your ass alive until I die." She thought it was the perfect solution.
While boating last week, I rounded a corner and came upon a nuclear submarine with a considerable military escort. Now I don't know what sort of boat al Qaeda fancies, but apparently it looks a lot like my own, 'cause I get boarded all the time by heavily armed teenagers looking a lot like the kids protecting this sub. I stopped my engines and called Allie in order to kill time. Appraised of my situation, she implored me to just cut a straight line, over the sub, to my slip.
"Best case, there won't even be a body for me to dispose of."