When My time comes

Seems I have been to a few too many funerals lately. There also has been a number of celebrity deaths in the news, Harvey Korman, Bo Diddley,Dick Martin, John McKay. It got Me to thinking about when My time comes to "hang it up" as it were. I love old movies, the black and white ones, so I visualize My exit scene in this medium. There I am propped up in some hugh Victorian Monstrosity of a bed, I'm wearing this smoking jacket, the kind with the quilted lapels, the sun is filtering through sheer drapes at the window beside the bed. The window looks out over, now here I haven't decided yet if I'd like some sylvan scene of rolling woodlands with some of those split rail fences, or a peaceful seaside, I thought about a Paris, or New York scene with a mourning throng in the streets, but I never much liked throngs, so We'll throw that one out. A gentle breeze ruffles the curtains, and the family and close friends come in. My wife is dressed like Barbara Billingsly (I think that's Her Name) the mother from leave it to Beaver, the pearls the starched dress, of course in real life, My wife will probably strangle Me for dressing Her like this in My musings. I have them all sit with Me privately, and I disperse last words of consolation, and wisdom. My wife, My daughter, My Granddaughters, All My great Grand Children (this takes place in the distant future) Hell I even remember all the little bugger's names as I ruffle their perfect little mop heads, My friends, My fellow artists, the people from the Guggenheim, and MOMA (what the hell, right) anyway when they all reassemble around the bed, and My lovely wife is by My side holding My hand, You know I look so brave. A beam of light filters through the curtains and alights on My face, I turn and look out the window, one last time, a smile crosses My face, I'm very weak at this point, I feebly motion to My wife to come closer, I whisper something in Her ear, and I'm gone. My wife lowers Her head to My hand, a slight shudder goes through Her being, She shakes Her head a few times, then lifts Her head and turns to face those gathered, and says "what a jerk" and smiles. The group lets out a collective gasp at this reaction, and plead with their eyes, and finally My youngest Great Grand son, Vincent ask what they are all thinking " Oh Gamma Soo, tell Us what did the great man say" (or something along those lines) and My wife says " the asshole said "ROSEBUD" yup leave em moaning.