This is a story about Coleman Sweeney. Coleman, in short, was an asshole.
Everyone in his small town knew it. It wasn't that he tried particularly hard to be unpleasant.
It just seemed to come naturally to him.
Coleman felt like the whole world owed him something, which caused him to regularly ignore the rules of a decent, acceptable society.
Wow. Really?
And he hated anything that got in his way. Go! You got it. You got it. Go! Go, go! You can do it!
And small animals. Even to children, he was an asshole. Trick or treat!
He was, as they say, born to it. But then, the strangest thing happened...something entirely unexpected-Coleman Sweeney died.
A brain aneurysm-well, subarachnoid hemorrhage to be more specific.
And it came as he argued over whether extra fries should be included in a 1.99 early bird breakfast, which was a typical Coleman Sweeney play.
It was then that Sarah found something completely unexpected-Coleman Sweeney had registered to be an organ donor.
Nobody knew what caused Coleman to do it, but there it was...generous and majestic.
And that was the day that Coleman went from asshole to hero.
You see, his liver went to Stan, a father of two.
His heart went to Miranda Morgan, who went on to teach for 25 more years.
And his tendons went to Staff Sergeant Donohue, who was able to walk again and would never need to be pushed across the street by his physical therapist.
And in a moment of small world irony, his corneas went to his 82-year-old next-door neighbor so that she could finally see the crap that her dog made in the side yard and pick it up.
Yes, in life, Coleman was a bona fide asshole, 365 days a year, 24-7.
But in death...well, let's just raise our middle fingers and shout, "Up yours, Coleman Sweeney! You're not an asshole...anymore."
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