The Wrong Guy Died

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I had nothing planned for my blog. But yesterday material for a new post literally knocked on my front door. And I just had to share it.

Yesterday an old fishing buddy stopped by. What I received was not a cordial hand shake. While busily chewing off huge chunks of my posterior I couldn’t get a word in edgewise.

His greeting was as follows, leaving out his colorful adjectives:

“Don’t you hi Amos me!,” he bellowed, refusing my hand shake. “In all the years I’ve known you I thought you were a thoughtful and caring person. Obviously I was wrong!”

“What?” I pinched in between tirades.

“As long as you and I have known Bob as a friend you would think the least you could have did was go to his memorial!”

“Memorial for what?” I interjected, my mind swimming. I had never seen Amos so angry, much less at me.

He looked at me in disbelief. “What do ya mean, memorial for what? Memorial for being dead! Not only did I think you’d be there, but I actually thought that you might be kind enough to get up on the podium and say a few words about him. But don’t worry your selfish little mind. I got up and spoke for both of us.”

“Are you talking about our fishing buddy, Bob?”

“What the hell other Bob would I be talking about?” he gasped in disbelief.

“I just saw him two days ago!” I shot back, my confusion being replaced with a touch of irritation.

“Yeah, right!” Amos spat. “His name was in the obituaries four days ago. Obviously you were talking to a ghost.” He then looked off in frustration.

“Bob Hillburn?”

“No, Bob Dillburn.”

“Amos,” I replied, “Bob’s last name is Hillburn, not Dillburn.”

Amos was silent for a long moment. “Are you sure?” he finally said, his voice a little calmer.

“I’m positive. Bob isn’t dead! I’ll call him right now if you’d like.”

“Oh,” Amos weakly replied. “I guess that answers a couple things.”


“I was wondering why I didn’t recognize anyone at the memorial. And the audience did look a little confused when I was on the podium and said how much he loved bass fishing.”

“You what?” I said, the amusement of the moment bringing a growing smile to my face.

Amos’ eyes were now darting and nervous, looking anywhere but at me. He then meekly added, “And there were a few mouths that dropped when I mentioned how much he enjoyed chasing the women.”

Yep, my dear old Amos had not only attended a total stranger’s memorial, he stepped up to the microphone, revealing memories of a person twenty miles away and very much alive….


17 thoughts on “The Wrong Guy Died

  1. Oh. My. Word. This is priceless! I laughed out loud! (And I’m very glad your fishing buddy is alive and well).

  2. Pingback: I Tinkled Reading This Story! | Life As I Understand It.

  3. LOL Your friend probably felt like a complete fool, but happy it’s sorted out and that your friend is still alive to do some more fishing 🙂

  4. I am cheryl’s cousin and she said we had to read your blog. I now know why!! That was HILARIOUS!!! i am still randomly laughing from reading your blog! Thanks for the good laugh!

  5. Pingback: Friday Funny: Thanks, Kid | The Diary of a Reluctant Mother

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