My Dying Wish

Hey—

Hope you’re having a good day, we’re on security lockdown (again) over here. They said there’s an armed intruder in the building. I’ll believe it when I hear the gunshots, but since I’m stuck in the office anyway I figured I’d play better-safe-than-sorry and let you know that if something does happen to me, there’s a couple things I need you to take care of.

First. All my old notebooks in a box under my desk? Burn them all. Just throw the whole box in a furnace asap. Don’t go through them, either—this is my dying wish, so you have to comply. And if you do go through them? If anything in any of them upsets you, that’s just shit from a fictional story I was working on. None of whatever it might say is true, at all. Gosh, I’m thinking now of how upsetting it was, imagining up all that filth. Yipes.

Second, I’m going to ask that after my death (and the destruction of those notebooks, I can’t stress how important that is) you get really involved with spiritualism. Get a Ouija board, start meeting with a psychic—not some old crow with a kiosk at the beach, a good one, a TV psychic—do whatever it takes to contact me on the other side. I have a feeling it’s going to be boring over (up?) there. I don’t think I’m going to have a lot in common with anyone. I mean, I’ll get to see my grandparents and stuff again, but that’s going to be fun for like a week, right? And of course some cool people are up there, the two good Beatles, Richard Pryor, Julius Caesar, but I have to imagine there’s a long fucking line to meet anyone interesting, given that something like 155,000 people die every day. So let’s keep in touch, okay? Even in Heaven, being dead must be a bummer, and you’ve always had a knack for cheering me up.

Third (and this goes with the Spiritualism thing) I’m going to need you to start watching Justified, and make sure you take notes so that when we’re in-touch via psychic connection you can catch me up on what I’m missing. I have a feeling they might kill Boyd off this year—which is crazy, he’s the best part of the show—and I’m not going to be able to concentrate on a single thing in Heaven if I don’t get to see how that plays out. You’re also going to have to make sure you see Avengers 2 and the new Star Wars movie whenever those hit theaters, and make sure you take notes on those as well. And look, make the notes objective. I don’t need a lot of editorializing, ‘Thor’s hair looked fake’ or whatever. Just the facts, okay?

I know I’m asking a whole lot, I know. And maybe it’s a bit much, since you’ll have no choice but to do whatever I ask, since I’ll be dead and these are my last wishes. But know that if something were to happen to you? I’d do the same. I’ll start watching Downton Abbey, for real. And I doubt you have anything that needs to be burned, somehow, but if there is go ahead and shoot me an e-mail (assuming I don’t die in this current mess) listing the items you want disposed of.

Finally, I’m going to ask that you give a short speech at my funeral. Nothing too fancy, I know that’s not your style. How about this, we’ll keep it real simple. Just get up there and say…okay, start saying, Anyone who knew Tom would tell you, but then pause, like you’re lost in thought. Pause for let’s say five seconds. Then, with a tear in your eye (probably best if you refrain from crying until this point, that way it’ll look like you’re doing a great job of keeping it together and it’s that giving the speech is what’s really driving home that I’m gone, it’s gonna tear everyone’s heart out, trust me) simply say: He was the only thing that made sense, and then rush out of the room, tears freely streaming.

Okay, someone’s knocking at the door…I guess I’d better check it out. It’s either going to be security with the all-clear, or…well, let’s just see. Thanks for being cool about all these requests. Sorry for all the stuff I’ve been meaning to apologize for. You know what I’m talking about.

Dinner next week if I survive?

T

P.S. Tell my parents I loved them or something. Make it pretty.