Good-Bye

"There was a time I remember when my old boss, a kind of megalomaniacal fruitcake with a bad head for business, approached me and asked me to go on a quest with him that could result in both of our deaths. This memory is pretty easy to conjure since it was about last week.

'Sampson,' the boss said, 'there is but one man on this staff I can trust to go along with me and, if necessary, make that ultimate sacrifice. And that man is you.'

I confess, some part of ol' Sampson L. Hartwig thought him out of his whack mind, as my hip-hop friends might suggest. But the more I dwelt on it, the more I took it as both a compliment and as an accurate assessment. The boss may be missing a few nuts and bolts, but as my dad used to say, even a broken clock is right twice a day, unless it's a digital.

What it comes down to for me, folks, is that Sampson L. Hartwig is an older fella in addition to being completely reliable. I've lived a long, happy life, and rightfully maybe it should be even longer, but it's a sad thought for a young person to go before they've had a chance to experience as much of the world as I have.

When I started writing down these sometimes-rambling musings of mine, I wasn't sure what the point of it all was. I later realized it was some attempt at immortality, I guess. Making my words stand up somewhere separate from me like carved in a stone statue. Or making them the most immortal of all things—stories. Passed down from one to the next over a nice cold drink in a cozy setting. That's the only way to live once you're in the ground, folks.

So the way I see it, yeah, let's go on this crazy adventure. The worst that can happen is they put me in the ground. There's still some part of me wandering around over those drinks in cozy settings, and in places like this column. And if it all works out for the better, maybe you'll hear from me again—and boy, will I have a humdinger of a story to tell you then.

In the meantime, I'm taking a loaded shotgun with me, and a taser. No one said I can't stack the deck a little in my favor. If my brother Goose comes nosin' around asking for me, tell him I went on a suicidal adventure—he'll be positively emerald with jealousy."

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