“In my own bed, with a belly full of wine and a maiden’s mouth around my cock, at the age of eighty.”

I want to die peacefully in my sleep like my uncle, not screaming in terror like his passengers.

Not likely though.

Fast.

My father spent his last years in a hospital, gradually getting weaker and weaker. After two years he decided enough was enough and refused food, water or medicine. He had so little fat on his body at that point that it only took three days to starve himself into a coma and then death. I helped the funeral director move his body out to her van. He’d been in a foetal position so long we couldn’t unbend him to lie flat on the trolley.

Actually, I’d like to amend that. Fast and in bed with a pair of 19-year old twins.

Surrounded by the rest of humanity as we watch the last star die.

Had a heart attack recently… while waiting for surgery, asleep, they tell me my heart stopped for eight seconds.

No clue. Woke up in the morning like usual, browsing my phone when they come in and tell me.

Hopefully just like that.

Obviously the ideal is to die under suspicious circumstances in a large house with many rooms and secret passages, a variety of potential murder weapons, and several mutually distrustful colorful characters.

At an old age peacefully after having a satisfying life

Preferably before neurological decline sets in as I’d prefer to not go like I’ve seen so many others go; forgetting the faces of their loved ones

I’d also hope that I will have left happy memories with those that would remember me after I’ve passed. Stories they’d love to tell people. Stories their grandkids would love to hear.

Death by snu snu