Every time I go home to SmallTown for a visit, there is always some bit of juicy gossip that I hear about the entire time I am there. SmallTown gossip kicks City gossips ass.
This past weekend, while we were camping at the lake, a plow wind hit SmallTown. We were very lucky that the storm didn't hit so bad at The Lake, seeing as we were in tents and all. The next day, as friends and family came to visit, they all had the same story to tell. Nick Shilloff died. He was hit by the golf cart tent and dragged to his death.
It reminded me of a death that would have been played out on the show 'Dead Like Me', and I pictured little gremlins loosening up the tie-downs on the tent, and giggling menacingly as the wind picked up and poor Nick tried to grab hold to save it, just like any good golfer would want to.
Even though I giggled about the way he left this world, I felt bad for poor Nick Shilloff. I never knew him, I don't think anyone really did. Apparently he was a bachelor, who kind of kept to himself. Nothing special about him, just a regular guy, someone whom nobody talked about until the day he died.
But here I am, a few days later, thinking that that's a way that I would like to go. Leave this world with a bang, give the locals something to talk about. For ever and ever, until the end of SmallTown, people will be talking about Nick Shilloff. The frickin' guy is now famous. Dying in your sleep, seems so boring...but getting dragged to your death by a tent...that's something to talk about!
The event of this past weekend has even spawned a new saying...
Person #1: "Blah Blah Blah, life sucks, Blah Blah Blah..."
Person #2: "Well, at least you're doing better than Nick Shilloff"
He could very well turn into some sort of pop-culture reference.
So, Nick, while you're looking down on us, from that grand golf course in the sky, I hope that you're laughing about how you went, and proud about how damn infamous you are now. Everyone wants to be remembered once they are gone, and dammit boy, you definitely will be.