A life less (extra)ordinary

eric coffin

“Ever since I was a child, I’ve been envious of all those athletes, at the top of their game. Victorious over all rivals, they raise their trophy high above their heads and look into the camera and say those words I was so jealous of: ‘I’m going to Disney World!’

Now, I know that I’ve got a debilitating genetic defect that makes me extremely vulnerable to injury and susceptible to massive bleeding and I’m also terribly awkward and uncoordinated with little to no knowledge of the game of football, but I’m not going to let that stop me from–”

Reverend Johnson looked up from the piece of paper he had been reading from. He took a look at the assembled crowd, drew a deep breath and continued.

“I’m not going to let that stop me from trying out for the New York Giants. I’m confident that I’m ready and that I will make the team, we will go all the way, win the Super Bowl and I will finally get my free trip to Walt Disney World Resort!”

As he finished this, several people in the audience began sobbing and wailing.

“Well, that’s all there is. Unfortunately, we know how the rest played out.”

The Reverend bowed his head and stepped to the side, as my grieving friends and family came up to my tiny, one foot-long coffin and paid their respects.

The reason my coffin was only a foot long is because after I caught the ball, the impact from the players who tackled me was so intense that my bones were actually vaporized into dust. My internal organs and blood were pulverized into goo, which leaked into the playing field of Giants Stadium, causing a bio-hazard emergency that shut down try outs for several hours.

Actually, when they dug that part of the field up, they stumbled across the remains of Jimmy Hoffa, mixed in with the obliterated traces of my corpse. So, it wasn’t all bad news.

In fact, my parents were able to successfully sue The Walt Disney Corporation for making their theme park so fantastic and awesome, as to leave little choice in their son’s mind that I would have to hatch this scheme, in order to be able to visit, due to the state of my finances at the time.

They won a record settlement of over five hundred billion dollars, which lead to the bankrupting of the whole Disney company and the closing down of Walt Disney World. The land was later turned into a giant medical/industrial park owned by a Chinese conglomerate which specialized in turning cute little puppies and kittens into fuel sources for tanks and ICBM launchers.

Unfortunately, being the inbred rednecks that they are, they spent the lump sum on five hundred billion scratch-off lottery tickets. Seeing as everybody (but them) knows those are the biggest ripoff around, they barely won back enough money for my funeral and tiny coffin.

All in all, though things didn’t work out exactly as planned, I have few regrets.

Mostly, I just regret trying out for the New York Giants and getting killed and not getting a free trip to Disney World and having Disney World get shut down because of my stupid parents and their lawsuit.

But other than that, I have very few regrets.


  1. How you done blogged dis if’n you be dead an’ all dat? Is you some kindsa ghost or whatnot? Or maybe you done gone an’ turn into nuffin’ but like light an’ energy an’ all dat, is dat it? An’ now you be all inside dem innernets, cruisin’ thru dat cyberspace on like a current of power an’ makin’ all dem blog posts appear all outta da thin air? You like dat boy from dat movie Powder after dem lightnins done turn him into sparks an’ den he shoot all thru da air an’ go all into Jeff Goldblum an’ Mary Steenburgen, makin’ dem feel all warm an’ fuzzy like cuz he keep on existin’ as energy after dem dang ol’ lightnins burn him up good. I guess what I tryin’ to say is that you is sumthin’ like da next step in human evolution an’ all dat, Mr. Filipkowski, or as I gone be callin’ you now, “Electro-Powder.”

  2. Hey,

    Just came across your site searching for hot marfs (that’s what my sister and I call us). I have marfan too, which is working out great for me on account of my long legs and no stretch marks after three babies…oh, and my hearts okay still….and I’m a chick therefore totally not expected to play football, like, ever. Thought I’d drop you a note and let you know it’s great to see a fellow marf that isn’t all fucked up looking for a change.

    You’re doing alright brother.


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