With great sorrow and profound clarity, the family and friends of Chad Fuller announce his passing on Friday of this week after the mafia poisoned his food. Chad had been certain that the mafia was trying to do him in for some time now, but of course, none of us believed him. I mean, the guy sounded crazy, right? What would you do if one of your family members said, "Greg, the mafia's trying to kill me. And the FBI has wire taps in my house and on my phone," at the bar one night? I'll tell you what we did: we told him that he's had a few too many, and we sent him home.
In retrospect, though, we should have seen the signs. I mean, we figured that maybe he had left that severed horse head in his bed, and just forgot about it the next morning, you know how it is. What probably should have tipped us off the most, though, was that time that some guy in a suit pulled up next to us in the car, pointed a machine gun at us, and pulled the trigger, sending bullets flying everywhere. We were at the hospital, and Chad kept saying, "See? I told you guys, the mafia's after me!" We told him he was just being paranoid, and that the chances of getting machine gunned to death in traffic in this town are actually pretty good. Now we know he was right all along.
Anyway, on Monday he started sending his food away, saying how it "might be poisoned," we figured it might be time to get him checked out by a shrink, but it all made sense when we took him to a restaurant and he fell face down in his lasagna after one bite.
So I guess we all learned a lesson with this one: Listen to your loved ones. Oh, and don't ever borrow money from the mafia.
Services will be held Tuesday at 12:30 p.m. at St. Sebastian's.
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