Realizing I Might Be Dead

Her body temp is at ten degrees the coroner said. He lifted my lifeless hand and I let if flop down by my head. That tears it, I thought. I might actually be dead. There is no sign of life or shake of her head? Medical examiner felt a need to say, and thus said. So they cut my chest open and out gushed some red. I was glad they did not do that back on my bed. I thought feeling nothing, rather amused now instead. My puffy bloated stomach showed I had been overfed. Proof is my treadmill with a totally unused tread. I was lead to heaven by my big cousin Weird Zed. A sour stinky old man who had never been wed. He came to collect me on a double Moped. Heaven had the most luxurious inviting bed. For once in my afterlife I was glad to be dead. Only sixty-eight, said my moronic cousin ‘Lil Jed. I watched my funeral with my other deceased cousin Fred. I enjoyed seeing my relatives do cartwheels on my bed. Now they are arguing ‘bout who has to clean my shed. Verifying one thing. I truly might be utterly dead.