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My End of Life Crisis.

How I saved the world from a highly evolved insect life form.

After you hear this story, you will not WANT to know me, you will either laugh, or want to stop me from ever repeating this story. I advise anyone to take Alan Watts' advice and say: Amitabh, Amitabh, Amitabh' pronounced AHH MEE TAA BAA' you are now assured a place in Buddhist Heaven.

I, however, am in Buddhist Hell.

It all started around 1990, when my parents bought a house that should have been sent to hell long before I was. The house was on Leishman Avenue. Doctor Leishman named a disease after himself: Leishmaniasis. It is very similar to Elephantaisis.

The house was loaded with bats, rats, and a highly evolved insect life form with ONLY females, who gave birth to SIXTY offspring every few months in an apparent immaculate conception. Jesus has returned. However, humans fumigated his reincarnated species.

If you study Saddam Hussein's speeches, you will find that Saddam invoked the Deity in every speech, EXACTLY sixty times. This is some sort of superstition. Just look it up. Sometime in the next sixty minutes, if you have time, say Amitabh three times for me.

I am not a Buddhist, however, I did see the movie about the Dalai Lama, starring Brad Pitt. And I have plenty of friends in India, so if I could just get to Buddhist Heaven, I am sure they will take good care of me once I get there. I would not want to die in Bhutan.

In Bhutan, the old custom of feeding dead human bodies, bones and all, to the vultures in the high mountains, is still practiced by some Bhutanese. Not that I would mind being eaten by the birds, however, I promised my dead body to the people at bodyworlds.com.

Back to the house at Leishman Avenue. It is now in sheriff's sale. Next month, in May 2007, there might be a new graduate of Carleton Sheets' real estate course ending up in Buddhist Hell. Please say Amitabh three times for this poor soul, about to take my place.

In 1990, there were ten people living at my parents' house on Leishman Avenue, with only one toilet. This is when I realized why God sent the message to the inventor of zip lock bags. To save me from wetting the bed. And to seal up the starving rats that died.

The starving rats were biting the electric wires in the house on Leishman Avenue, so they looked like the people at the museums who demonstrated how the Van De Graaf generator would make your hair stand straight out. The rats' bodies were as thin as their bare tails.

The bats were well fed

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