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You're taking the last breath of your life. What do you see? Who is around you? Have you done anything significant with your time on earth?
You could be in a hospital after a long healthy life, have just been in a car accident, or at home and suddenly be hit with a stroke. The way you 'bite the dust' is up to you alone.
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Tee_Hi
71 reads

You Think I Will, But I Didn’t

"Mama, mama," the slut cries. "Please don't die, please don't die!" She looks at me through tear-filled eyes, but I know she's really wondering how much she'll get from my will. I could tell her, but choose not to. She's always enjoyed surprises, so she can have her biggest one yet.

The druggie's hands are shaking as he takes one of my hands and kisses it. "I love you, mama," he says, simply. HIS place in my will should come as no suprise, but then, he's never been known for brains.

I hear the gold-digger sobbing, but don't even spare him a look. The sex these last dozen years has been phenomenal and I half wonder how he pulled it off so well, pretending he loves me in his quest for my coffers.

The ice queen, cheater, and thief are also in attendance, presumably to see me off to my next level of being, but what they're really waiting for is my last breath and hence, the end of my grasp on my millions. I look around for Pipsy, the actual recipient of my vast estate, and see her tail at the foot of my bed, in front of the thief.

"Pi... pi ..." I try to call her, but my throat, scarred from years of chain-smoking, will not allow me to complete the word.

"Shh, shh, mother, don't try to talk." The druggie again.

Fortunately, my little bundle of fur knows I was calling for her and she comes bounding to me, too happy to bathe my face one more time. While she readies my face for the after-life, I look upon hers one more time, the only face I care to take in during my last moments.

Her big brown eyes are the most sincere I've seen during my 69 years of life and right now, they hold a sincere sadness; though she can't put it into words, my truest love knows I'll be dead soon and it grieves her badly. Her wet little nose tickles at least as much as her gravilly tongue, but that's okay; her bath eclipses the sponge ones the gold-digger has been giving me for the last few weeks.

A single tear escapes the corner of my eye as I finally manage to say her name. "Pipsy."

Fade-to-black.

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