Snydesdale: Sir?

I: Oh! Dryly Snydesdale! You have startled me, my Head Scrivener.

Snydesdale: Sir, what are you doing in the Royal Scrivening Room at this late hour?

I: I'm working on my death post.

Snydesdale: Your death post, sir? May I ask what a death post is?

I: It's a post that will automatically post a designated time after I die.

Snydesdale: Eh, sir, are you planning on killing yourself?

I: No, of course not, Dryly.

Snydesdale: How is the blog to know that you have...passed on?

I: I'm still working on that.

Snydesdale: Ah. I'll leave you to your work then, sir.

I: You are hardly disturbing me, Dryly. I am finding this task more difficult than I imagined.

Snydesdale: I would imagine it might be rather difficult, sir.

I: Well, it's just this damn beginning. How do you start something like this? I'd like to start off with a joke, but humor may not be appropriate.

Snydesdale: Perhaps a quote?

I: Yeah, perhaps. Hmm...I wish I knew what my last words are going to be.

Snydesdale: I'd expect that would be useful knowledge, yes.

I: For instance, if my last words are "What the Hell?" I could easily use that to lead into "And speaking of Hell...". Heh. Brimstone, now that's funny.

Snydesdale: Quite. Were you expecting to finish this tonight, sir, or may I lock up the Royal Scrivening Room?

I: Well, I did want to get this all taken care of before Saturday...

Snydesdale: Are you planning on doing anything particularly dangerous this weekend, sir?

I: Honestly Dryly, I don't know. Hey! Those are good last words. 'I don't know.'
But one moment, how does this sound?

There once died a boy named Gurg
Whose passing was rather absurd
As he slept in his den
He rolled onto his pen
And now it will only write "Urrrg..."

Well? What do you think?

Snydesdale: Perhaps you should get some sleep, sir.