"And that's when I met my Dolores," you'll tell the burglar. He'll be sprawled out on the kitchen floor, the blood spurting out of his neck forming a puddle all around him. He didn't stand a chance against Teddy, your Doberman. Teddy is hovering over the burglar while you tell him your life story.
"She was a taxi dancer at the Beltway on 72nd," you'll tell the burglar just as he dies. Those will be the last words the burglar hears. You'll keep talking for fifteen minutes after he's dead, then you'll call the police and ask them to take the body away.
Tonight you're going to sleep well. Over the course of the forty minutes that the burglar bled to death on your floor, you'll have managed to confess to some pretty weighty regrets. You'll have apologized to a few people who are no longer around to hear it. Maybe if the burglar makes it to heaven, he'll pass your words along. It was nice to talk to somebody again.
Happy Spill Your Life Story Day!
