Visits with my grandmother, either in person or telephonically, eventually lead to the subject of death. Yours or hers, it doesn't matter, either one will do.
Grandma: Oh! I know what I wanted to tell you. I decided I want this other song played at the funeral now.
Me: You mean you don't want that Tom Jones song anymore?
G: Yes, but now I want this one, too: *sings* There's a place for usssssss…..you know that one?
Me: Oh, yes Grandma, that song was written by my favorite composer.
G: Good. Than you won't go forgetting it.
Me: No, I will be sure they play it Grandma.
G: Oh! Also, I decided I want to get you a limo.
Me: For what?
G: So you can all drive over from the church to the cemetery together! Oh, won't that be nice?!!
Me: *blank stare*
G: Now, I need you to help me count how many people will be riding in the limo.
(we make a count - it will be ten)
Ok, then I will make a reservation for a limo that holds ten. You can have drinks in there. Oh, that will be so nice!
I am sure you'll have a lot of fun all together in that limo!
Damn! I'm going to miss it!
Of course, to her, the Grim Reaper is waiting around every corner. This is a woman who travelled to Paris for New Years Eve, stayed ten days and only left her room once, as she was terrified of getting sick. After all, The Cold is totally her nemesis and can be found lurking anywhere.
Grandma: Oh, I feel so bad today!
Me : Why? What's wrong Grandma?
Me : Aww, I'm really sorry
We stop at a stoplight and someone is walking across the crosswalk, the WALK sign is illuminated.
"Hurry up stupid! You walk too slow! What's the matter with them? Get out of my way!"
This basic sentence formula is repeated with different pronouns and verbs at just about every juncture of the journey.