was fond of candied apricot whiskey
and drank so much, so cheerfully, so often
that they stuffed six bottles into his coffin
then down the side of a mountain on skis
they sent it, helped by sail and breeze
past the graveyard and off a cliff
poor Miroslav...come to this.
_______
a silly 55 for my BFF.
An early morning laugh is just so on my cards here - thank you! Sounds like a reasonable way to go - Cheers!
ReplyDeleteBetween the name, the photo, the excellent rhyming and the tale told, it was a delight.
ReplyDeletePoor poor unfortunate Miroslav. Life is not easy for bon vivants in totalitarian countries, and they must seek comfort in whatever form they can...after Supreme Attorney General's directive forbidding catnip, what else is a poor kitteh to do? At least he was allowed, after all his years of diplomatic work securing treaties with the English Bulldogs, the full state Ski Funeral. (Thankfully for my nasal passages and keyboard, I had no hot beverages in my hand while reading this.)
ReplyDeleteWhat a delight to read the misfortunes of the poor Miroslav!
ReplyDeleteThis is wonderful. Poor Miraslav. I laughed heartily at this. The photo is priceless.
ReplyDeleteThe older I get, the more I think deaths like this would be the way to go...
ReplyDeleteI have skier friends who do this, more or less ~
ReplyDeleteThe title was enough to hook me. What a way to go.
ReplyDeleteIt's good to have friends who remember to weight-down your properly, so that one can fly past the grave... or the graveyard, at least.
ReplyDeleteHa... great to at least get some bottles in the coffin...
ReplyDelete