POSTMORTEM FOR OLD MACDONALD
The body of Old MacDonald was found last Wednesday evening in the Toxic Language Dump on Drury
Lane. Foul word play is suspected. A coroner’s report states that MacDonald bit off more than he could
chew figuratively speaking. Neighbors say that of late MacDonald had been nervous as a cat on a hot
tin roof over his head. He had been depressed since leading his horse to water while unable to make
him drink the Kool-Aid. Also, recently, curiosity had killed his cat (let out of the bag) and someone else
got his goat, increasing his down-in-the-dumps moods. Friends reported that MacDonald suffered
delusions such as putting the cart before the horse, always thinking the grass was greener on the other
side of the fence, trying to get blood out of turnips, imagining needles in his haystacks, and once even
beating a dead horse. MacDonald is remembered as a hard worker often having axes to grind, wild oats to
sow, hay to make while the sun shines, and a cow to milk for all it was worth. Acquaintances say he was
as honest as the day is long. MacDonald is survived by his wife of 50 years who is reported to be madder
than a wet hen over his out-of-the-clear-blue departure. Funeral arrangements are incomplete at this
time but will most likely be when the cows come home. In lieu of flowers, donations may be made to
the Modern Language Association. Rest in peace, MacDonald, we know that you, though deader than a
doornail, are in a better place. Gone but not forgotten.
Glint Literary Journal 