Well Shit, I Guess That’s It: The Eulogy of James R. Mitchener for Everyone but Him, by Him

Well Shit, I Guess That’s It:

The Eulogy of James R. Mitchener for Everyone but Him, by Him

If all has gone according to plan, which it clearly hasn’t seeing as someone is reading this to you and no one in my generation took the time to create an immortality serum, my last words should have been something memorable. I’m going to assume that, given the fact that it’s all over now and I probably went out the same way I came into the world, crying and alone, the words of my end weren’t as glorious as I would have liked. So, like many people before me, I have decided to take the burden of creating a eulogy discussing my successes and glory away from whichever unfortunate family member was bestowed with the task, and do it myself.

I am writing this Eulogy in 2012, on January 11. I am 24, and I think that given the fact that as I get older I’m realizing that life is a lot less fun than it was as a child, I should write this now while there is still that level of infantile curiosity in the pit of my stomach. Continue reading

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The Back of the Bus

As Aaron stood in the corner talking to Michael, a long-term friend of his parent’s, his eyes shot a glance across the crowded kitchen. The party was already in full swing, people pouring out shots of expensive vodka and chasing them with generous glasses of wine filtered through the aerated decanter, the centerpiece of every party thrown at his Parent’s house. Buried in the beat of the music, Aaron could hear Michael railing off the pros and cons of Steven King. Aaron nodded and smiled, putting enough attention into listening that he could recognize the social queues in which he was required to respond, but secretly his attention was in watching the room full of people. As surprising as it may be to everyone he met, when he told them he was a writer, it didn’t mean he had read every forgotten work of every author in existence.

Michael started laughing, reaching out and putting his hand on Aaron’s shoulder, jolting him back into the conversation. Aaron laughed as well, nodding in agreement without any understanding of what Michael found so wildly amusing.

“I’m glad you agree!” said Michael, “But I’m telling you, read the Tower series and you’ll understand exactly what I mean.” Continue reading

Stephanie

“I’m sad,” said Stephanie, stepping towards me as she pulled her jacket up around her neck to fight off the biting cold.

“Why’s that?” I asked, holding out my lighter and igniting her cigarette.

“I’m 36 and alone. All my friends are getting married, and I’m not even dating anyone. All I’m doing is sleeping with a 25 year-old who’s not even close to what I’m looking for.”

“And what part of that makes you sad?”

“All of it,” she said, reaching up to wipe her eyes of a tear that, to me, appeared to be non-existent.

“Well, I suppose a better question would be what makes you think you’re so different from everyone else?”

“I just said, all my friends are getting married and I’m still here by myself. So I’m sad.”

“Who isn’t these days?” Continue reading

Cyclist

A young soon-to-be American was walking down the street of his passport country of England. He was heading from Eton Wick to Windsor, a thirty minute walk along side the road. As he walked,  he saw in the distance a man on a bicycle. He thought little of it, dropped his head, and continued along his way.

Not long into his walk, the young man looked up again to find himself nearly passing the cyclist. As he approached, he realized the man on the seat of his bike, pedaling extremely slowly, was in his early eighties. The young boy, passing on foot, turned and smiled to the cyclist. He said, a smile still upon his face, “It’s strange, passing a cyclist on foot my friend.”

The old man smiled back, bowing his head slightly. “Young man,” said the cyclist, “life is far too short to spend it hurrying from place to place.”

 

 

Story based on true events.