Oh, Death, We Hardly Knew Ye

I hate Death.
With an even greater passion,
I suspect,
than that with
which Death
hates me.

But I refuse to bow
to this scumbag usurper.
I spit on Death's grave,
I laugh in his face,
I make
jokes.

Death sucks.
He may one day get my body
but he
can't
have
me.


Last updated: 24 February 1996

Copyright 1995 Miles O'Neal, Austin, TX. All rights reserved.

This article may be freely distributed via computer network or other electronic media, or printed out from such media, for personal use only. Any non-personal (ie, commercial) use of this article voids the warranty which prevents my wasting hundreds, if not thousands, of yours and my dollars in lawsuits. Commercial copy permission may be granted if, in the author's sole opinion, other usage of this article is for purposes the author holds near and dear to his heart and/or wallet. For such permission, contact the author via email at roadkills.r.us@XYZZY.gmail.com [remove the "XYZZY." to make things work!] or via mail at the address below. Appearing in person at the author's residence during daylight hours for a personal audience is also permitted, provided no weapons are brought along. This notice contains no MSG, sugar, artificial sweeteners, sunlight, air, or other known carcinogenic substances or energy forms.

1705 Oak Forest / Round Rock, TX / 78681-1514 / USA

This copyright may be freely used, distributed and modified subject to the conditions noted above in the preceeding paragraph.

Miles O'Neal <roadkills.r.us@XYZZY.gmail.com> [remove the "XYZZY." to make things work!] c/o RNN / 1705 Oak Forest Dr / Round Rock, TX / 78681-1514