DEATH IS A ONE WAY STREET

Tommy my cat and I were in our luxury penthouse flat, three miles under-ground.
"Look at that view" said Tommy, pulling back the curtains, "I can see right up that worm's nostrils". "That's why they charge the big bucks" I said "If you want to live three mile under-ground, then you gotta be prepared to pay for the privilege".
"Not wanting to be nosey or anything" said Tommy "but how much did you shell out for this pad?" I smiled, picked up a pad and pencil, wrote down a number and passed it over to Tommy.
"WOW!" yelled Tommy "you can write". "That's nothing Kid" I said "you hang around and you'll see me ride a bicycle, play the piccolo and pick my nose, while singing, "I'm a yankee-doodle dandy". "You must be a--genius" cried Tommy. "No kid" I smiled "I was born in Belfast, the child of two exceptional parents, my mother, had studied under Einstein, until someone rolled him off and my daddy, was the first man to fly, well, until he hit the ground at the bottom of the cliff. But did he give up? No sir, he went into a coma and died".
What an exciting life you have led" said Tommy as he dialled 999 due to chronic heartburn. "All I have ever done is fall from a shi--small house and land on my feet".
"Don't put yourself down kid" I said "Leave that to the undertaker. Llife" I said lounging back on a burgundy bean-bag made from recycled bald coot feathers, "Life--is like-well, it;s like a lop-sided po, just when you're getting ready to piss, you have to get off the pot".
Golly, that's deep" said Tommy "I must write it down. Have you a typewriter on you?"
"Afraid not Kid" I said "but if you reach into my hip pocket, you'll find a portable printing press, I never leave home without it" "You're ready for all eventualities ,aren't you?" said Tommy.
"Yes, I am" I said "And even for things that come out of the blue. I always say......."
"Yes, go on" said Tommy, hunched over the printing press. "I always say, that life is-well, its like a dalmation with black spots. The only way to tell how deep the spots are, is to skin the dalmation"
"The secret of life in a nutshell." muttered Tommy "I must get this down for posterity and it may help her psychiatrist when the old bat's case comes up next week"
Tommy looked up, by not looking down and said "Are we dressing for dinner?"
"Of course" I yelled "But pull the curtains first Tommy, we don't want every Tom, Dick and Harry staring in at us". "Especially not Tom" said Tommy "He makes my flesh creep and then I have to run and bring it back again" "I know what you mean kid" I said "That Tom, can practically undress you with his eyes, but when it comes right down to it, he just uses fingers and thumbs like everyone else" "Shall I say Grace?" said Tommy.
"No!" I yelled "Let the dirty slattern say it herself if she wants too"
Later, and not before time, Steven Nolan and I were lying by the railway tracks, pretending to be two normal people. As the six, five special thundered down the line, the man made from lard looked at me and said, "Did you see me interview President Clinton?"
"Yes, I did" I said with two bindweeds, sticking seductively out of both nostrils.
"Well?" said he who is not slim. "What did you think?"
I ruminated, sure it wet my shoes, but I was in a crazy, carefree mood. I looked at my fat friend and said, "It was good, but it could have been better"
Steven leaped up--no, that's a lie, he rolled, gasped and eventually got to his feet.
"How could the interview have been better?" roared the oval one.
"Look Steven" I cried "I didn't want to bring this up but if you must know, the interview was crap, yes, crap, with a capital K!"
"How dare you!" yelled the tubby one "I've never been more insulted since the time I was asked to leave Burger King for eating the hand off a waitress"
"You missed the BIG question," I yelled. "You never asked President Clinton what is the meaning of life?"
"Sure, everyone knows the answer to that" said Steven "Life is, well life is like a merry-go-round, with all the fun of the fair. One day you are down on the ground, next, you're up in the air"
I reached into my hip pocket and whipped out my portable printing press. This was good and I had to get it down before the horse tranquilizers I had for tea kicked in.