Dr. Jack Kevorkian, aka “Dr. Death”, died today at the age of 83. Given the fact that I’m a posthumous journalist of the highest caliber, I got first dibs on an interview:
Me: Let me start this interview off by declaring that I support you completely, Dr. Kevorkian.
JK: You do?
Me: Absolutely. I think that if someone wants to die, and you put the tools and mechanisms in their hands, you are only doing them a favor.
JK: Exactly. I’m just helping enable them to carry out their personal decisions.
Me: I know! Last month, my cat really wanted to die. It can’t speak, obviously, but it was telling me by peeing on my pillow for the hundredth time.
JK: Umm . . .
Me: So, I asked myself WWJKD? And then I enabled my cat to commit suicide.
JK: How exactly did you do that?
Me: Well, I didn’t have any of those fancy chemicals that you had, so I just set up a catapult (Ha! Get it?) that would send my cat into the swamp behind my house where a few alligators live.
JK: Oh Jesus.
Me: And then I enabled her to commit suicide by putting catnip on the flingy part of the catapult. It worked like a charm. She yowled “Thank youuuu” as she went to her reward. I think.
JK: My God, man, you’ve completely perverted my entire philosophy!
Me: Nah! I’ve got it figured out perfectly.
JK: I think you murdered your cat, actually.
Me: Well, I was learning – it’s not easy being a sidekick to Dr. Death, you know.
JK: Sigh. I hate that nickname.
Me: It’s a great superhero name! I’m calling myself The Killer Kid.
JK: That’s abominable.
JK: No-…. never mind.
Me: Next is my neighbor. He’s been begging to die for a while.
Me: Well, no, but I can read body language. He’s totally giving explicit signals.
Me: You know, like looking at me weird when I reverse out of my driveway going 60 and shaking his head at the fact that my Christmas lights are still hanging up.
JK: Is he sick?
Me: Don’t think so – he seems like a pretty healthy 30-something guy. But he wants to die, so who am I to say no? It’s my duty as The Killer Kid!
JK: Hmm. Well, do you want to know a secret?
JK: If you really want to be my superhero sidekick, you can’t just be some ordinary boy-er, fat bearded man.
JK: No – I need to give you my secret super suicide soldier formula to truly transform you into The Killer Kid.
Me: Will I get superpowers?
JK: Absolutely. All of them.
Me: Sign me up!
JK: I’ve got what I need right here. Just sit still.
Me: Hurry! Hurry!
JK: Ok, this will just hurt a little.
Me: OW! What wash thet? Did joo injerkt me wif sumfin?
JK: Yup – just give it a second to take effect.
Me: Ok. Wass it called?
JK: Lethal injection.
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