I can’t remember my college address. I’m 365,422 years old, and I went to college when I was 19. It was 365,403 years ago when I started. It’s been a while now. I live in an apartment above the clouds, in HEAVEN. It’s weirder in Heaven now. I have to remember my college address because I want to go to a movie with my girlfriend, and I have to give my college address to buy the ticket.
I will tell you how I died: All I wanted was a tissue. I had a cold. I was walking to the market to get medicine and a box of tissues, when I saw my neighbor in her yard. She was watering a Venus fly trap. It leapt out, and its head grabbed mine and swallowed me whole.
In my grave last night, I saw a blood curdling, rabbit toothed, polka dotted tissue box boasting pictures of llamas with hats.
“Finally!!!” I shouted. I peeked in.
The tissue box was infested with pencils and beetles. The beetles had already eaten half of the pencils, and it smelled of musty old cheese. My heart split in two. There were no tissues. I died for the second time.