The REAL Game of Life

I already know exactly how I’m probably going to die. It will be in a car accident and it will be 99.9% my fault according to the rules I learned in drivers ed. On the bright side, since I’m dead, no one can point fingers because that’s insensitive.

I’m feeling peer pressured by the car behind me to prematurely take a left. I’ve already had two “Dammnit, I could have gone” moments. Eventually, I’ll think I have enough time but in fact, will not. Before I know it, I’m crushed by a Tahoe, obviously beige, the worst car color manufactured in all of Detriot. Typical.

The whole vision is very clear except that I can’t make out what kind of car I’m in, which really sucks because I would avoid purchasing that car until I’m ready to die and cheat my fate. I do know the inside is light, but I refuse to buy a car with black interior simply because I don’t like it as much, and it gets too hot in the summer.

From there I will be forced to play a game of chess with the angel of death. I will quickly lose considering I don’t even know the rules-- unless they are the same as checkers, which I have heard, they are not.

The result would be much different if the challenge was “Guess Who”. Or I guess “Clue” but that takes too long and you need a pen, which the Angel of Death rarely ever has on him. When someone asks if he has an extra, his usual response is, “do I look like an Office Max to you?!?!”

I’m usually pretty modest, but I have to say I am unstoppable at “Guess Who”. It’s a fact. That is, unless I pick a person wearing glasses, a person wearing a hat, a person with red hair or a person that is a woman. I don’t care how gifted you are at the game, if any of those conditions befall you, you are automatically screwed. If it isn’t bad enough to have one of those plagues, there is a small chance you can have all four. If this is your fate, aka if you are Claire, I advise you surrender. She also wears earrings, which is a death sentence in itself, but I’m not even going to go there because that’s her own choice.

“Guess Who” was my first exposure to the ideals of conformity. From it I learned it was bad to have a baldhead, to have particularly large defining facial features, or to have hair that covers your ears.

All psychological effects aside, I would still choose it as the platform for my final fight for my life. Unfortunately they don't have Guess Who at the purgatory so I will undoubtedly be beaten by the Angel of Death when I try to play chess-- like I said before, as if it were checkers.

So anyways, that is definitely how I will probably die. The only other option will be that I’m bitten by a vampire for the sole reason that I don’t believe in them and after all this media attention they’ve been receiving lately, they can’t handle that kind of blow to their ego. Ugh celebrities…