“Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to get through this thing called ‘Life’.” (John Scalzi)

The story of most people ends like this: they grow old, their health declines and in the last chapter they die. All the other stories of all the other people are different because not everybody is lucky enough to grow old, but the last chapter is always the same. How can your story have a happy ending? It is really simple. You have to follow my instructions.

I like endings. I prefer to write the final chapter first, so I know where my story is going to. Therefore, I already wrote the final chapter of my own story, still under construction, still time to edit and refine, but the draft goes like this:

It was a good life. I’m sure that it was good because I found the definitions of ‘good’ and ‘bad’ and checked my life against them. It was a good life because I always tried to be a good person and also a good writer, although that’s more difficult. There was a lot of suffering, lots of hard work, I produced lots of typing, but also I wrote at least one great story with a great plot that made one reader smile at least once. That makes me a good writer and it makes my life one that was worth living.

I remember when I was born. The first thing I remember was that someone grabbed me by the feet, lifted me up and gave me a firm slap on my butt. I started to cry. A clinical cold voice said: “That was your first lesson: Life is hard.” After that experience, I found out the soft side of life: a warm breast, a pint of fresh milk and a heart behind that breast that was happy I was there.

Life didn’t change much after those first two impressions. There were problems, life is hard, and sometimes there was a reward when you solved some of those problems. There were people who just wanted to slap me on my butt and there were others who were warm and happy I was there. About the only difference with that first day was that I found out that I had choices, that I could decide what to do, what I wanted, what I thought was best for me. Of course, that part of life filled the list of problems, but my imagination helped me to solve some of them and sometimes even get the reward: feeling happy.

And now the final problem shows up: death. Some say it’s not a problem. Some say it’s a new start. I don’t know what to believe. I like the idea that there’s life after death. I don’t care if that is called Walhalla or Heaven or Havana or Paradise, or when that life is that little part of you that you left in the stories you wrote, that sparkle of life that you gave away to others to help them or to move them or to make them laugh. It’s not so important what I believe. In a few seconds, I’ll find out…

My instructions for a happy end are:

1.     Live

2.     Love

3.     Laugh

4.     And read the stories of Ronaldo7. He writes great plots…

* * *

That’s it. The end. Everything is said. There’s only one question left; perhaps you can help me with it: How do you explain brainwashed people that they’ve been brainwashed?