The final word is so hard to choose.

So. I’ve been thinking. I’ve had a lot of time to do that. Most of the time I should have spent on thinking was wasted on vicodin induced comas. So while I have had a lot of time to think I have spent little time actually thinking of anything in particular at all.
I don’t want on my tombstone or grave marker or Lucite cube filled with ash or movie gore, the word FRIEND. I think it sucks to have friend. First and foremost the word Son should be there. Why? I guess because it’s important to me. I may not have been a great son but I want that to be first so that will be GOT IT! Next if there is money to pay for another word, Brother. Last word I have no idea what the last word will be. Please dear god don’t let it be sci-fi enthusiast. Friend seems so lonely. So unloved. Friend. Just a friend. Oh yeah he was a friend of someone’s. Friend. Oh yeah I think someone mentioned him, friend.
I want SAINT as my last fuckin word. THAT’S WHAT I WANT. I don’t care what comes before it just makes sure the last word is SAINT. Wait … I take that back.

I can see it now:
“Enclosed in this Lucite cube are the last remains of Scotty Ferguson. Son, Brother and a guy who really hated the movie THE SAINT.”

Scratch that saint bit.

I don’t want friend.

Uncle.

Ok I’m gonna pop some more vicodin and go to bed.