Correct me if I’m wrong, but nobody wants to wind up in a nursing home. And if you have to go into one, you absolutely don’t want to be there for a prolonged stay. It’s why I’ve created a bold new epiphany for people nearing the end of life: the Party-Till-You Pass Nursing home.
Now by “party,” I’m not just referring to alcohol and drugs. I’m referring to whatever you really want to do that’s excessively bad for you. The stuff you’ve avoided all your life in an effort to prolong your life.
Like eating french fries. Or smoking cigarettes. Or jumping off a fourth-story patio balcony into a swimming pool.
All our lives, we’re told these things will kill us. If the end is near, why not let them, and have a blast in the process? I thus looked on Craigslist, found a nursing home for sale, and purchased it. Voila – the Party-Till-You-Pass Nursing Home was open for business.
A former neighbor named Sal seemed to be a perfect fit for my facility. He was overweight, dying of congestive heart failure, and was being detained at a local nursing home. I visited him one day, and he lamented his restrictive diet.
“My kingdom for a Big Mac,” he sighed.
“Sal, how’d you like all the Big Macs you handle – and then some?” I asked, and explained the details of my epiphany. His stomach roared a positive response. He was in.
His family, being pragmatic and not eager to spend Sal’s remaining cash reserves on an extended nursing home stay, happily agreed to let him join our ranks.
“Let’s party!” he shouted as we wheeled him into his new, soon to be short-lived home.
Party to the Great Beyond
Sal kicked off the party of a lifetime in spectacular form. First, we filled a trough full of Big Macs, and he gorged himself silly. He arteries clogging before our eyes, he then freebased a little cocaine, as he’d heard smoking crack is a great way to pass the time. Finally, he hosted an all-out orgy, hiring the area’s most highly-recommended prostitutes.
After four straight days of partying, Sal passed with a smile on his face. “You made my wish come true,” were his final words to me. “I wish I could die all over again!”
Word about Sal’s big-ass party rapidly spread, and soon our home was overflowing with new residents, all hell-bent on partying to the blissful end.
Some chose to do motorcycle jumps through flaming rings of fire, where they crashed and blew up in a blaze of glory. Others drank martinis while they went over Niagara Falls in an inner tube. Some just wanted to drive around on motorcycles without wearing a helmet.
Surviving family members were a bit saddened to see their loved ones go, but they took comfort in knowing that these people lived life to the fullest – including the end part. Plus, generational gaps were bridged right and left, as young adults were invited to the free-for-alls, and often shared sentimental joints with their grandparents.
Our Party-Till-You-Pass nursing home is now always at full capacity, and our residents smile ear-to-ear whenever they shout out our rallying cry: “Party like a rock star – and die like one too.”
Photo by The Arches