I said to Kurt’s ghost, “Why did you leave us, man?”

He said, “I haven’t written anything worth a shit in a hundred years, what do you care?”

I said, “Well, it’s kind of like Jimi Hendrix. You know he’s a master and all but you can only take his music every now and then. You have to be in a mood, you dig?”

He said, “I can dig it, man.”

I said, “Well, every now and then I get into a Vonnegut mood and I always go for The Sirens of Titan.”

He said, “You don’t go for Slaughterhouse-Five?”

I said, “Hell no. If you ask me, it’s overrated.”

He said, “I agree. I’ve never written anything worth reading twice.”

I said, “I’ve read Sirens five times, Kurt.”

He said, “Then double dumb ass on you.”

I said, “I’m gonna miss you, you crotchety old prick.”

He said, “God Bless You, Mr. Minton.”

I said, “Goodbye Kurt. Thanks for inspiring everything I wrote my senior year in college.”

His ghost disappeared and the world grew one degree colder.

Goodbye Kurt Vonnegut.

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