Christmas Eve night, as usually happens, my parents and aunts and uncles migrated to my mom's living room, the rest of the men and teenagers gravitated to the game room and the rest of us found ourselves in the den sort of watching A Christmas Story but mostly just bullshitting about this and that.
For reasons I can't remember, we started talking about the unpredictability of life, or more precisely, the unpredictability of death. It was just your normal Ransonette/Courville festive holiday conversation.
We talked about how people shouldn't be afraid to live their lives the way they want and that people shouldn't be hesitant to take great leaps of faith when the moment strikes them because a person could...
"...walk out the door and get hit by a bus!"
"...drop dead while they're sleeping!"
"...fall into a hole!"
Then, I said, "Or, I could walk over to the fireplace right now and pick up that fireplace poker right there and smack Cindy across the back of her head."
At first, there was silence.
Then, people got into the spirit of the conversation.
"Yeah, just like that, Cindy would be deader than a post. Dead"
"Just like that. BAM!"
"When the cops get here, because the parents would no doubt call the police," I said, "You guys would just say, 'Oh, she's dead alright, but, it's okay ossifer, Laurie was just trying to make a point about the unpredictability of life, or more precisely, the unpredictability of death.'"
I really shouldn't drink vodka.