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My mother called me a little while ago from her office to tell me that one of the loan officers over there, that I had been friends with during my own brief stint of employment with that company, had died last night of a heart attack.

He was 34. 34
Who the fuck dies of a heart attack at 34?

He was a really big guy, not fat. But, built like a freaking linebacker. He must have been about 6'9", with the biggest shoulders and hands I'd ever seen. We called him Deebo, after the big guy in the Friday movies. He loved it and he loved all the attention he got from the ladies in the office. Sometimes, when I was being particularly obnoxious to him (which was just about always), he'd palm my head and just move me out of the way. Gently, mind you. But, the feeling of having my entire head enveloped by someone's hand is not one I'm likely to forget anytime soon.

Fucking-A.
I'm waiting to hear about funeral arrangements and such-like.

Yo, Pop's trippin' 'bout the bike.
Which bike?
The BEACH CRUISER.

(no subject)

Date: 2003-01-27 08:26 am (UTC)
From: [identity profile] hexennacht.livejournal.com
sadly, people of such great height often die young; their hearts, really no larger than those of their wee counterparts, just can't keep up.

i'm sorry, babe. *hug.*

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thejunipertree

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