I'm so sorry to inform all of you that my son, Evan Jr., passed away earlier last week. Losing a loved one is never easy, especially when that loved one is your retarded son, Evan Jr.
I will try to remember the good times. I remember how Evan used to drool all over the couch and i would smack his macrocephalic head and say, "No Evan, no!".
I also remember how when I wasn't looking, he would go into the kitchen and turn on our gas stove and he would just sit there and suck in the fumes. As soon as I would smell the gas, I would race into the kitchen and toss Evan into the living room.
Above all else, Evan loved eating my spare change. I kept my change in a jar by my bed, and Evan was always getting into it. Opening the lid of that jar was one of the few advanced motor functions that he could perform. Pennies were his favorite. On numerous occasions, I was forced to take Evan to the E.R. to get a dollar and some change pumped out of his stomach. The doctor told me that if he kept eating coins, he would eventually lose his life, but unfortunately I didn't take the advice to heart. I just loved the vacant look that would spread across his fucked up face whenever he would shove a fistful of change into his mouth.
I was deeply saddened to come home from work one day only to find my dear Evan Jr. face-down and lifeless on the living room floor, his belly filled with about $30 worth of pennies, nickels, and dimes (my family doesn't believe in quarters). I had hidden my change jar, but I think he sniffed out the pennies. I thought he would be responsible enough to be left home alone. I thought that he could manage himself. I thought he would have the sense to stop eating at around fifteen bucks, but I was wrong.
The cheapest child-sized coffin at Carolina Joe's Crematorium Emporium cost $300, so I can't even afford a coffin for my sweet little angle. Evan always hated fire, so cremation isn't an option. Until I sell enough of this merchandise to afford a coffin, Evan Jr. will remain inside of a Hefty brand trash bag in the bed of my truck. He's doing a number on my gas mileage. $30 may not be a whole lot of money, but it sure made Evan heavy. Thoughts and prayers are welcome, God bless.
For the (possibly hipster) trendsetting Trekkie in your life.
What does it all mean? From Memory Alpha: The Vulcan IDIC is an acronym for Infinite Diversity in Infinite Combinations, the basis of Vulcan philosophy, celebrating the vast array of variables in the universe. In the Vulcan language, the term for IDIC is Kol-Ut-Shan.
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