"Death By Cookie"

I've think I've figured out how to commit suicide.

Oh no, I'm not going to commit suicide, but if I were so inclined, I've found the absolutely perfect way to do so.  

And certainly not by ordinary means.  Not by a gun, or a knife, or by crashing my car into a tree.  Far too messy!  And The Chuckmeister is a neat-freak, as you likely know, so that just will not do...

So I began to research alternative ways of taking that "Celestial Discharge" early, while I still can.  Before I've been issued a silver drool cup and parked in an old aged home somewhere.  

I looked into poison, but it's hard to predict the results.  I mean, how much hemlock is enough hemlock?  Certainly don't want a yuuuuge bill from the local ER, now do I?  I might survive, and be all pissed off.  And poorer.  

Or, I could go to the southern border and buy a bag of fentanyl, which I understand will off you pretty good.  And damn fast!  And God knows, there's oodles of fentanyl at Joe O'Biden's southern border these days.  Like a supermarket down there.  Not excited about that option, though.  

So I picked a way to do myself in, should I ever choose, that's really inventive.  Have you ever eaten the "Salted Caramel Cookies" at "Great Harvest Baking Company" in Temecula?  They are, simply stated, the very finest item of baked goods ever produced in the entire history of the world.    

They come in bags of six or so, and cost about $10 Bucks.  Each cookie is the size of a frizby and weighs as much as a cell phone.  Each of these babies puts out about 2,000 calories.  And each one should come with a warning as it could put lesser mortals into a coma.  

Goddddd, they are good!!!  I mean, we're talking next best thing to an orgasm!  I think.  If I can remember back that far.

Matter of fact, they might even be better, if for no other reason than they last longer!  

So I decided to buy two bags of these cookies, stash them away, and when the time comes, when they're bringing me my silver drool cup, I'll eat them all.  In one sitting.  Each and every one.  I'll go sit in the corner and eat them all.  And I'm sure I'll go into a diabetic coma and croak.  

I want you to keep this quiet.  Don't tell anyone.  If for no other reason than they make a limited quantity of these beauties, so I don't want them to run out.  Keep this just between me and you.  But this might just be the very best way to hop onto the the Heaven Highway ever invented.  But if that time ever comes, I guarandammteeya, there will be a smile on my fat face.

Goodbye in advance...