Dead Pizza Delivery Boy: the best way to go

Who knew? When they named it "Dead Man's Curve," they really meant it.

Like prison, heaven is an oddly backwards world. In The Great Beyond, how you bit the dust largely determines whether you'll have dust kicked in your face. I once told Abe Lincoln how I died and he said, "Oh, how quaint." Thanks a lot, Abe. Way to be a leader.

Here's a little summary of the pecking order in heaven. Victims of high profile tragedies like the Titanic, the Hindenburg, the Challenger are top dogs. Whereas other people, pizza delivery boys for example, aren't given the time of day for making their mid-80's Hondas one with an oak tree in the noble pursuit of a $1.50 tip--all so some other sorry dude has a pepperoni and sausage pizza at his bachelor party before the stripper gets there.

So, how do I feel about dying in the name of Domino's deep dish? Honestly, pretty good. I've been able to make friends with some heart attack victims (a.k.a my former customers) who don't get much respect either.

Death isn't delivery, it's Dijorno.