This is the kind of thing I think about on my days off

A few days ago I slipped while getting into my shower. I caught myself before I fell so I didn't wind up splitting me head open on the toilet or anything, but it got me thinking. It occurred to me that if I tripped down my stairs or fell and broke my neck in the shower or met some equally sudden demise while at home it would be a long time before anyone found my body.

It would probably be three or four days minimum before anyone found me. Maybe as much as a week or two depending on how my manager reacted to my sudden and repeated absences. I'm sure that, in that time frame, my cats would have run out of food and taken to eating my slowly decomposing flesh. Cats are nature's mercenaries after all.

If I were to die at home I think the worst case scenario would be to slip and fall in the shower. At least if I fell down the stairs I'd be clothed. In the shower you're totally naked. Whoever finds my body is going to see me in my birthday suit, partially eaten by my cats, and bloated from laying in the water for days on end.

And, having fed on my corpse for several days, there is no doubt in my mind that my cats will have to be put down. Anyone who's ever seen a nature based horror movie knows that the minute an animal tastes human flesh they become unstoppable killing machines.

Worst of all though is the porn dilemma: All men have an unquenchable thirst for pornography, as such we all have stashes of filth hidden somewhere in our domiciles. If I die, at some point people are going to go through my belongings and find the mountains upon mountains of porno that I have displayed in my living room, alphabetized and arranged by genre. My only hope is that a fellow male is the first to discover me and finds it in his heart to spirit away the offending material before my Mom arrives.

Just thinking about this situation is freaking me out. I definitely don't want my cats to be put to sleep and the world to know that I have a crippling addiction to hardcore pornography. It's not just those two things either. There's also my porcelain doll collection and the notebooks full of bad Elizabethan poetry I've written over the years. I think I'm going to head to Wal-Mart and pick up a shower mat before the worst happens.

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