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I wish I were a grave digger.
Because everyone loves a grave digger.
No one wants to dig their own grave,
so everyone loves a grave digger.
If I ever become financially independent
or am able to retire before I die
I’d like to become a grave digger.
Someday, I would like to dig my own grave.
Preferably before I die.
But you know how that goes.
Sure you have time to dig someone else’s grave,
but when it comes to digging your own grave
you just never get around to it.
It’s like cleaning the lint trap in the dryer.
If I do dig my own grave before I die,
I’ll lie down in it every night.
That way if I die in my sleep or catch on fire I’m set.
The fire truck would also provide water for the lily
I am holding with my arms crossed.
I would put up a sign:
“No arsonists at night.”
So I would be safe.
Also, possibly a sign that says:
“No Expectorating in pool.”
I had to look that one up in a dictionary.
Turns out “expectorating”
is just a fancy word for “spitting.”
Much to my relief.
As I stood and peed into the pool.