The Many Deaths and Many Lives of Jon Carey

Earlier in the week, I wrote about what is possibly the great work of fiction the western hemisphere has ever produced:

The Wrath of The Spectre.

Last week, I had the pleasure of interacting with my follow blogger, Jon Carey. The two of these happening led to the question I've been asking myself alot:

"As The Spectre, how would I off Jon Carey?"

The mind just reels.

So MANY ways...

Now... don't get me wrong, I ADORE me some J. Carey. A more funny, generous human being one would be hard pressed to find. Still, I would not hesitate for one second to bring the wrath of God down on his bearded ass.

I just wanna go all "Spectre" on him because if anyone could appreciate the irony of his demise it would be one, Jon Carey.

Like, you know, if I were The Spectre, I'd turn his ass into a bottle of single malt and leave him on a frat house doorstep. He'd at first think, "This is so effed up," but as the last frat boy puts his blistered lips up to the lip of a "Bottle O' Jon Carey," I'm pretty sure he, of all people, would respect the technique, even as Maroon 5 croons softly in the background.

Or maybe I could at the last minute turn him into a well and leave a lifetime supply of hot dogs near and help others learn metaphor. Letting his last act be one that would benefit others and all.

Of course, I'd bring him back to life 'cause that's what Spectres do for their friends. He'd be like my Oliver Queen and then, I'd tell him to, "Shut up, Ollie!"

Sure, he'd be mad but he'd get over it, I mean, he's alive again, after all.

And because I could, I'd literally turn his ass into jelly donuts and tender beef and strand him alone on a deserted island.

I'm sure Jon would have wanted it that way.