MuddyFUN AND GAMES

RIP, You Lunatic

She thought she was the shit

Amy Sea died this morning while walking into traffic wearing an orange tutu that cost her $1.25 from a thrift shop. She had a dream this was how she would go out, but that seemed crazy because, seriously, where would she find an orange tutu that only cost $1.25?

Her last words were, “Whoda thunk it?” which she immediately regretted because she had always wanted to leave the world, saying, “Aw shit.”

At the moment of impact, Mrs. Sea was yelling into her cellphone about what a great deal she got on her tutu. A woman, trying to finish writing a poem about the British gentry in the early 1800s, crashed right into her tutu, which wasn’t as effective as an airbag.

When mashing Mrs. Sea into a hamburger, the vehicular poet was trying to think of a word that rhymed with pluck.

The police were disgusted. “Nobody reads poetry anymore,” they said, handcuffing her. “That poor orange ballerina died for nothing.”

The police jailed the vehicular poet and wouldn’t let her read anything but People magazine. No literature for her! The vehicular poet bored her cellmate into creating a noose when she relentlessly droned on about how difficult it was to make a Chicago accent sound British.

“You have to totally loosen your nose and practice clucking with your tongue like a thousand times a day,” she told her cellmate. “It’s brutal, but what can I say? British gentry problems, ya know?”

The vehicular poet dodged the cellmate’s noose when her favorite high school English teacher arrived and paid her bail.

Amy Sea insisted on pre-emptively sending her own obituary to the Chicago Tribune several years before because she said, “People get it wrong a lot. I’m dead. I want the last word. Besides, I have a weird history with humans.”

She also sent it to The New York Times, but they had never heard of her, so they filed it.

Here is her obit —

I am dead. I was not loved by all, but a few people made me spit my water out when I laughed, so it was all worth it.

The first time I realized I wasn’t loved by all was when a waitress I worked with asked, “Who the fuck does she think she is?” Everyone who answered sounded like they were describing an entirely different person. It was then I realized the people I worked with suffered from a multiple personality disorder. So, I got fired for drinking on the job. I was no quitter.

My earliest defining moment was finding out my Superwoman underoos were white on the back. There I was, flying around in my underoos, thinking I was a superhero. However, as soon as I turned around, people were like, “Aw shit. Those are her underpants. She ain’t got no pants on.”

Needless to say, I was devastated. I spent a lifetime turning around and looking at my ass, feeling like I was missing something. I did have amazing oblique muscles, however, because of the four decades of turning around and looking down at my ass.

Other than that, I had a nephew from Indiana who spoke with a French accent. I occasionally mistook my sister’s voice for my own, which made me realize that my sister was crazy.

My greatest accomplishment was asking people who were crying, “What’s so funny?” Because of this, I didn’t have many friends in life, but the ones who stuck around were hilarious.

Wouldn’t you rather be laughing? Follow Amy Sea and MuddyUm