Photo by Leeann Warner

This is the best life the best life the best life the best life! It doesn’t get any better!

What are you talking about, Stanley?

This is the best life the best life the best life the best—

I heard you the first time, Stan. Why are you limping?

The best life the best life the best—

You’re not eating your dogfood, Stanley. You’re tottering down the stairs—

The best life the best life the best—

Stanley, this is probably the last May of your life. Consider that!

Look at all the flowers I can pee on! Daffodils and tulips and forsythia and that purple stuff and—

Not to mention the turds right under the laundry lines, Stan.

That’s my favorite thing to do, leaving those big pieces right under your white sheets and pillowcases. The slightest breeze and—

I know, I know, Stan—

Not to mention that you step right on it when you collect the laundry. Isn’t spring great!

Stanley, listen to me. This is your 14th or 15th spring, I think you should get serious and think about it. I doubt you’ll have another one.

Ain’t thinking about nothing, too busy hunting for moles.

Stop digging up the yard, Stan!

Gotta go after them, you know the tunnels they got under the ground? Between raccoon condos on top of the trees and mole habitats underground, we might as well live in a zoo. Or a city.

Come Stanley, I want to show you something. There!

What’s there?

That’s where I’m going to bury you when you die, Stan.

WHAT? You’re already looking to bury me?

I started looking out for a spot, and there it is, right under those trees. Isn’t it pretty?

I hate it! How can you even think about those things?

Stanley, watching you limp on your walks, hearing from Leeann that she can’t take you anymore on warm, humid days, I hate to tell you this, but you are going to die one day, and not too far in the future.

And you’re already making plans?

I have to make plans, Stan. I have to think of digging up that hole—

Don’t look at me!

I have to think of what happens if you die in the winter when the ground is frozen, Stan, I have to think of what to plant there after you go to make it pretty.

Marrow bones.

The point is, Stanley, death is a serious matter.

Nothing is a serious matter. Ask the Man, he knows. He often talks about dying, and do you see him crying? You’re the only one crying, drama queen.

I’m not a drama queen, Stanley, I’m just the only one with any feelings around here.

Oh yeah? Catch me later. This is the best life the best life the best life the best life the best life the best—