the coffinsmith

 

matthews international

casket division

 

that’s what the sign says on the building across the street

and while it creeps me out completely

i wonder if they’re hiring?

 

what experience is required, do i need to be certified? ordained?

amish?

 

and what do you call someone who crafts these beautiful little haunted houses?

coffinsmith? coffinista? journeyman casketeer?

dead grandmother gift wrapper?  

i’ll need a business card

 

other job openings in my area: nuclear waste taste tester, substitute backup pickle

briner, deep sea firefighter, bubblegum food color lab tech

            interim office-temp hiring manager (but it’s just a day gig, you know

until someone publishes my pop-up book of cartoon philosophy)

 

as coffinsmith, i’ll make good money with great benefits

            401k with employer match, paid vacation

social stratification and employee discount

instead of smoke breaks i’ll pound nails in my own personal project coffin

fourteen square foot subterranean death aquarium, mini bar

surround sound, and a launch button, just for giggles

 

more employment options i should consider:

love monkey

disaster junkie, used car salesman stunt double

best supporting actor in a superficial techno-colored administrative role

semi-pro miniature golf sports radio commercial break announcer

            (and now a word from our sponsor: matthews international    

 

casket division) and i wonder what the other divisions manufacture

lawn chairs? christmas ornaments?   baby cribs? 

            when i retire, the company will throw a nice party

all my favorite people, all my favorite snack crackers

            i’ll drink until i can’t stand, then lay down in my coffin

coworkers will carry me down to the river and cheer

“he worked himself to death! all hail the coffinsmith!”

 

or i could end all this nonsense right now

            park the car in the river, between two buffalo peaks 

            nothing but a loin cloth and a slingshot

run gorilla-knuckled into the wild

 

i wonder what my high school guidance counselor might think of that

i wonder what junior-grade tax collectors might think of that

i wonder what executive marketing department senior survey supervisors

                                                                                    might think about that

 

who cares, let them make their own coffins

atlas shrugged

so ponos sleeps in

 

 

posted for open link night at d'verse