Dear New York,

By now you have probably read or heard or seen something regarding the termination of that woman’s life in Florida. Now that it seems we have to state in writing what should happen should we have an unfortunate accident, I would like to make things absolutely clear about what to do with me if such a thing should occur.

You, New York, have full clearance to yank the plug or tube or whatever it is that is keeping me alive. I’ll even allow you to sell the TV rights to cover it and have a pop superstar such as Hilary Duff do the honors, if that will get some ratings.

But if for some reason I have to be kept alive, I’ve come up with some suggestions:

Feel free to use my body as it lies dormant as a site for school field trips. Make sure there is what I will call a “poker stick” next to the bed. Television has told me that kids enjoy taking a stick and poking bodies that don’t move, so I want to oblige them in this, if they feel the urge. How the teachers would like to relate this to their material is up to their discretion.

You also have my permission to auction me off on eBay. I would suggest the title “World’s Only Human Coffee Table.” The high bidder would have me in their house, and even though I would have to be taken care of, I would definitely be a conversation piece: “Hey, your table does look good in my bra!”

Another option: I could be used as a hair model for aspiring barbers. The plus side is, my critiques would be minimal; the downside is, only a few people could practice on me. Actually, come to think of it, just let my hair grow as long as possible, then cut it off and donate it to the kids who have cancer but still go to school and stuff and who need human hair.

Now that this is all out of my system and I know you will uphold my wishes, I can feel good about living again.

Michael D. Ayers