Monday, September 24, 2007

Death Pool

Last night at dinner with my children, the conversation turned, as it so often does, to my death. I don't think they're actually hoping for my demise. Instead, I'm inclined to believe they know my life is like a slow-motion car wreck, one with little hope for a happy outcome. In any event, as my offspring were guessing at the possible causes of my death ("I bet he has an aneurysm while he's yelling at us!" "I bet he has a heart attack from eating bacon!" "I bet Mom kills him for snoring!"), they were reminded of their path to riches, namely my life insurance.

It's quite unlikely those dreams will come to pass. Oh, I'll die of course, probably after suffering for years from an excruciating and disfiguring illness, one that requires me to wear support hose and a helmet. This should be of only academic interest for the boys, however. It's a virtual certainty that my Lovely Bride will outlive me. She's younger, in better shape, and spends less time with the kids. She'll get the proceeds to do with as she wishes, probably something dull like pay off the mortgage and send the kids to college.

But children need to dream and mine are no different than any others, at least in this regard. Perhaps they'd get a check for their share? You never know - it could happen! With visions of seven-figure payouts dancing in their heads, they started talking about what they could do with the loot.

My oldest, the ant, thought he'd invest some of it in Treasuries and short-term corporate paper. Some would be converted to gold and buried in coffee cans in the back yard, which would give him the ability to turn away his brothers' requests for help in the post-apocalyptic society sure to follow economic collapse. The remainder would be set aside to buy treats for our dog, Katie.

My middle child, the grasshopper, had a slightly different philosophy. He knows, from having been kicked off a casino floor last year, that he's too young to gamble. Instead, he decided to settle for next best, which is to become a freelance soccer player whose entire diet consists of Mountain Dew and Pixie Stix. This prompted jeers from his older brother along the lines of, "See, I said you're all going to be fat and lazy, just like Dad" but not even a detailed and gruesome description of diabetes-related amputations shook his certainty. Like his brother, he also intended a portion to be used for dog treats.

Last, my youngest chimed in. He's neither ant nor grasshopper. Frankly, I don't know what he is. A magpie, perhaps. Anyway, he had evidently given quite a bit of thought to this, as he went on at some length about the luxury boxes he planned to purchase at sporting venues around the country, including estimated costs and specific locations within each stadium. His childish delight would have been a wonder indeed, had it not been predicated on me dying. He too set aside money for Katie's benefit.

Throughout, I remained mostly silent. Occasionally I'd look down at Katie, in her customary place under the table, and ask her if she knew what the hell is wrong with my family. She ignored me. She's no Einstein but she knows which side of her bread is buttered. Three kids promising to buy her treats? It'll be a miracle if she doesn't kill me herself.

14 comments:

Anonymous said...

The joke's on your oldest. Not even gold is worth anything when you have nothing to eat. They should remember to freeze your body just in case.

Anonymous said...

I think I'd hire a taster... And no, not Katie.

Righteous Bubba said...

I'd take out policies on the kids and announce that Katie has to find her own food from now on.

zombie rotten mcdonald said...

This is why I want a motorcycle. At least when I go, it will be by my own hand.

Maybe your youngest child is Neebles? See if jennifer will check the cage again. Has he had some Polly Pocket swag lately?

Anonymous said...

:)

I cleaned out the cage today. Neebles had the mother lode. Tons of PP stuff as well as other pretty, pretties.

Anonymous said...

True irony, you get poisoned but they end up having to eat your poisoned flesh!

Adorable Girlfriend said...

Don't forget, Katie hates you too.

Anonymous said...

you should adopt a kid and give him everything in your will. that way all your kids will want to pin it on him, so that it will be in his best interests to protect you from everything.

of course he might still set aside something for the dog, but you gotta take a chance to protect your life!

it's you against the world, man!

zombie rotten mcdonald said...

I CAN HAS PEECE OF DIS AKSHUN?

fish said...

This is exactly why I took out a health desurance policy. The family has to pay 3 times my salary in the unlikely event of my demise.

Kathleen said...

I'd put my money on a moose revenge killing.

Snag said...

Katie's sure going to hate me when I divert her Milk Bone funds to a gilt-edged casket.

Adorable Girlfriend said...

Katie should just bite you in the arse and teach you who is the real boss of the house.

Just sayin'.

Kathleen said...

breaking!!! Snag family documented