Till Death Do Us Part

By: Kenny Johnson. A daydreamer, perpetrating as an aspiring writer, leaving a trail of ink from Jersey to Los Angeles. He has something to say. Let’s see if you can relate.

There are a few recent sayings whose funerals I am looking forward to attending. “Swag,” “Winning,” and “Leggo,” are at the top of that list, more so out of annoyance than whackness, so I wouldn’t be opposed to an open casket. After the goodbyes are said, and all the corny phrases pay their respects, I imagine as I leave the service, I would spot one phrase off in the corner smoking a blunt and generally being anti-social. Damn, she looks more than alright. Who is this? Who else, but “I Don’t Give A Fuck.”

She’s waiting on a ride; I’ll match her, because it’s always with me. With the smoke clouding the sky and closing our eyes, she starts to open up. She’s not sure why she’s here. Me neither. To me, it seems an inappropriate place for someone “not to give a fuck.” She agreed. I asked who invited her? She responded, “everyone.” Okay, I’ll just blame that response on the good tree, but I needed her to elaborate. She said I wouldn’t understand, but I insisted. She said, “I’m tired of people calling my name in vain. That shit’s not cool.” “But, that’s exactly what it is”, I responded as I exhaled. “Most feel that much cooler when they drop your name around people.” Even I was guilty of doing it a few times.

I passed her the “L.” She took it and explained that dropping her name was more than lame. “Very few know me well enough to call my name, and those that do will show you before they tell you.” I agreed. Then things got a little deeper. She said she deserved to be in the casket more than those other guys. I agreed. She called me an asshole. I agreed again, but the conversation continued.

“Nothing positive comes from me and I’m starting to get used to it,” she said. She was right. Those that are with her care very little. Her mind state always leaves an impression, but rarely builds to progression. Now that phrase was corny, but I felt her. She’s been doing a lot of the destroying, but no one is rebuilding. “I’m tired of this petty shit. I should just hop in the casket with Swag,” she said. She passed the “L” back. “Chill, if you did that, I’d just resurrect you in the face of unjust laws and oppression,” I said. She said, “You’re different, why are you even here?” “To make sure it’s not fake. I’m just here to preserve the cool,” I said. She smiled. We were now down to the only kind of roaches that I’m cool with, and her ride still hadn’t shown up. She asked where I was going next and I told her D.C. She asked, “Do you think I could ride with you?” I responded, “I Don’t Give A Fuck.”

Now if I could only find “In God We Trust.”