#3. My death goes viral. BuzzFeed, the Huffington Post, and the Daily Mail all misspell my name. Slate or Salon runs a long-form think piece tut-tutting the Post's newsroom of ghouls and bone worms. Mystifying Photoshops of the Post's cover are splayed across Tumblr, where DEEZ NUTS is overwhelmingly piloted by a My Little Pony or Doctor Who. Someone writes a fan fiction about me having sex with the car. But my name confuses the author, too, and I am posthumously depicted as a voluptuous gymnast whose gold-medal ass refuses to quit.
Several thousand people secretly masturbate to the story. The Internet is at peace.
#4. Meanwhile, here at Cracked, the mood is equally celebratory, as my grisly doom gives a co-worker further fodder for a sequel to a popular column. He spends his bonus check on a motorcycle shaped like the Predator.
Flickr/Lee Lilly/Creative Commons
"What? He would've wanted it this way."