F. had more lives than a roomful of cats. His deaths were many and varied. He died from prickly heat, riding a motorcycle, slipping on a ketchup packet, in a unicycle accident, searching for the Loch Ness monster, falling off the bar and falling out a bedroom window, and many other stange, bizarre and freakish deaths. Each time he'd die, they'd wake him and he'd live to die another day. But not this time. What finally managed to keep him in the box? A producer who failed to find him a home convenient to tourists.
He is survived by his mother and his fiance of 30 years. He will be remembered for his gift of storytelling, and his ability to drink enormous amounts of Guinness. Unfortunately he had many dreams in his life he was unable to fulfill, including water skiing while playing the tuba, wrestling bears in India, playing for Notre Dame, commandeering a hot air balloon, flying an airplane, swallowing a cat, becoming a Fema agent, making cheese, sleeping with the queen, writing a Broadway musical and going to Disney World.
F. will be laid to rest in the dark corners of the prop room. But he will live on in our hearts forever. In leiu of flowers donations can be made for the building of a casino/orphanage on his land.
This has been a Monday Mission. As you may guess, my show closed this weekend. Today's Mission is to write a post in the style of an obituary. If you play along, post a link to your post in the widget below: