At various points in my disease I have coldly contemplated taking my life. You know what I'm talking about -- when it gets really bad, maybe you can limp to a cliff and jump off it. To save your family the misery. To save yourself the misery. To save the bucks so your family will be left with something. About once a month I am fascinated by the prospect of "walking off the job." It's no good of course -- you will just give your loved ones nightmares for life! That's when I heard about Asteroid Ted Nugent ...
Suicide is still illegal in some states.
Life insurance companies will deny your claim.
Then there is the problem encountered
in murder mysteries, what to do with the body.
If you have loved ones you do not want to leave
a mess.
You don’t want them to open the door and see you.
There must be a way.
You could step off the curb and dive
under a bus,
But that would be so mean to the driver,
To his wife and child.
They will never get over it.
There is the possibility of well-meaning intervention.
A cop with a bullhorn might talk you out of it.
Or you attack a squad car like you are on angel dust
and instead of shooting you down
the cop takes you home for meatloaf and pie.
Play golf in an electrical storm.
Teeing off on the eleventh hole
and lightning taps you on the shoulder to cut in.
Your friends would remark how you loved that
damn game.
You could change your mind about all this,
Then a suicide bomber steps into the store.
You T-bone a car at the mall and out steps Death,
all bloody in his hoodie,
a 48-oz Big Gulp in one hand.
Death expires.
What happens then?
Time passes.
The predicament deepens.
You pay a killer to take you out, without saying
where or when.
Make it look like an accident, you say.
Years pass, and you see his name in the obits
And write a check to the charity he loved.
Remembering you are allergic to bee stings,
you wade into a honeysuckle bush,
But the bees that swarmed there last summer
are gone,
killed off by neonicotinoids.
You dream every night abut relief.
A swooping roc from the Arabian Nights
snatches you in its talons
and carries you off to its nest beyond
mountains,
Where its hungry young are waiting.
In your misery you shake your fist at God
and lift a revolver to your temple.
A band of winged babies appear out of nowhere, with sashes,
and assume you bodily into heaven.
You demand an explanation.
One baby explains, They are running a promotion today,
And you’re the lucky number.
You think today might be the day, and high in the sky
you see a bright light bearing down on the earth.
It is an asteroid named Ted Nugent by
whimsical astronomers.
Ted has been arcing across the galaxy for 4 million years
And on its face is etched your name.
The asteroid’s purpose is to find you and put you out of your pain,
Per your request.
But the asteroid won’t just tag you --
The oceans will rise, the earth’s crust
will cave in like an aluminum can,
Fire will rain down on every zipcode,
Everyone will perish, humans and beasts,
bodies crushed in closing fissures.
The world will be extinguished
And frantic crowds about to be swallowed up
nevertheless turn toward you and ask,
What did you do?
How did you make this happen?
Why are WE getting dragged down along with YOU?
Terrified of more ADT, looking for advice
well...home from Holiday...AND, In spite of the Foley catheter and a few other set backs along the way...made it the whole 5 weeks. 
Heaven gained an Angel
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