You may only have 70 or so good years of Nick Moose left

Nick Moose's view

Well, I just found out the other day, but I want to keep it hush-hush because I wanted to hold off the inevitable media circus that would ensue once the word got out.

I, mildly mannered and wildly popular Daily Kent Stater columnist Nick Moose, am going to die.

I’m not certain when exactly, but I’ve asked a lot of doctors and all of them tend to agree that I am, in fact, not immortal and that within the next 70 years or so, my body will expire, and I’ll start to not be able to write columns anymore.

Unless, of course, it turns out that I’m a Highlander. Then I’ll only die if somebody lops off my head with a sword, which also is pretty much inevitable.

Don’t cry too hard, ladies. I’m sure I’ll have been fired from the Stater for years by the time I meet my demise, but still and all, I figured I had better get my “Make-A-Wish” out of the way now while I’m young enough to enjoy it.

Here, for your reading pleasure, is my letter to the “Make-A-Wish” organization.

Dear sirs or madams:

It has come to my attention that I will eventually die. In the event that this happens, I’m going to be pretty pissed — especially if I’ve lived my entire life without my ultimate dream coming true of my eating an “Otter Pop” while watching a flaming motorcycle driven by Phil Collins crash through a wall of gorillas made out of butter.

Make no mistake, I’ve given a lot of thought to this. There were some other wishes I wanted made too, but they all involved Lindsay Lohan, and I didn’t know whether or not you guys had enough pull to persuade her to come to my house with her nude body, wrapped mummy-like in “Fruit by the Foot.”

Gravely yours,

Nick Moose

When I do finally spring from this mortal coil, I plan to have my lifeless husk of a carcass shot from a cannon directly into the living room of someone who’s wronged me.

Then, I want it retrieved and carried around Weekend at Bernie’s style for a couple of weeks by some people who will insist that I’m still alive.

Ultimately, I plan on being mounted as a piece of taxidermy inside a small house in a cemetery that has an enormous picture window so it looks to passers-by like I’m doing whatever it was I did the most while I was alive. (Which, sadly at this point, still looks like it’s going to be masturbating.)

These events will coincide with the release of an epic bio-pic about me wherein I’m portrayed by Jaime Foxx. He will win every Oscar known to man.

Now I’d like to observe a moment of silence for my impending end ———————————————————— OK, now let’s remember me the way I would have wanted, with an incredibly poignant quote from myself:

“… No. You’re doing it wrong! You’re supposed to tie me up USING your panty hose! Do I have to do everything myself? Come on, this ‘Fluffernutter’ isn’t going to eat itself.”

Nick Moose is a senior making-gorillas-out-of-butter major. Contact him at [email protected].