Whimsical Post #23: The perfect end?

The perfect way out of this painful physical existence is one which has occupied some of the best minds of all times. However, opinion was and remains divided on it. The biggest problem is the one of ensuring the exit is the way is how we planned it and that takes some doing…. I have earlier dwelt on the topic here a couple of times and if you are interested, you can read it at:

https://vahshatedil.wordpress.com/2010/01/06/whimscial-post-9-ways-to-make-a-telling-exit/ and https://vahshatedil.wordpress.com/2010/01/04/whimsical-post-8-memorable-ways-of-dying/

But there is one more account I would like to share with you. It is that short and marvellous tale which depicts the power of imagination and how we can day-dream our way to an existence, which far outranks the mundane and routine life we are forced to lead. Lets see if you can identify it (I have, off course, taken the precaution of removing the principal protagonist’s name and replacing it with a series of asterisks – taking care to keep them to the same length of characters figuring in his name).

I share this short paragraph from the very end of the story for another reason. I know there are many people who would be extremely happy and satisfied at seeing this state of affairs come about, with me in the lead role, as early as possible. A slight bit of delicacy prohibits me from listing them but if they do happen to read this, they will undoubtedly identify themselves…. I am profoundly (in the words of a most memorable screen character) “anispeptic, frasmotic, even compunctious” to have caused them such “pericimbobulation'” but I am afraid I have no power to make this happy (for them) scenario come about at this point in time. But anyway, the passage in question…..

****** ***** lighted a cigarette. It began to rain, rain with sleet in it. He stood up against the wall of the drugstore, smoking . . . He put his shoulders back and his heels together. “To hell with the handkerchief,” said ****** ***** scornfully. He took one last drag on his cigarette and snapped it away. Then, with that faint, fleeting smile playing about his lips, he faced the firing squad; erect and motionless, proud and disdainful, ****** ***** the Undefeated, inscrutable to the last.

Well, thats it


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