By Warren Jones
Mrs. Morrison was too busy to die. In fact, Mrs. Morrison thought the whole idea of death was a terrific waste of time. Imagine all the work that could be done if one didn’t have that eventual all-too-common annoyance hanging over them. To be reduced to a bag of bones was unacceptable. The saggy skin and droopy eyes. The bad posture and horrible smells that one was prone to as one approached the final paragraph of one’s story. It most certainly wasn’t how she planned to exit the theater.