The sudden death of Huey P


Monday was a bad day. Huey P, my oversized HP laptop computer, just up and died.  He had no symptoms indicating that his life was nearing its natural end.  In fact, I was in the process of booting him up for an exciting day of blogging when he took a noisy sigh and his bright blue lights went out, never to glow again.  It was horrible.

Huey P. held all my secrets, not to mention all my tax information which had not yet been filed. He stored the rough draft of my mystery novel which I was sure would become a best seller, not to mention my grocery list for the week.   Over the years he survived viruses that would have killed any other PC, and never complained.

Without Huey P., I was lost and unable to pay my bills or google recipes for my dinner.  I had no idea how co-dependent we had become!

I called my trusty computer tech – who happens to be my son – and he rushed right over with his “doctor bag” of tools.  He tried every resuscitation technique in his play book, but after 35 minutes, Hugh was declared legally and irreversibly dead.  Apparently he had succumbed to a weak hard drive, the result of years of abuse.

It all began about a year ago when I had the bright idea to hide my password cheat sheet underneath the computer. The piece of paper became overheated and burned slap up, but Huey kept on trucking.  Of course, I lost all my passwords and fortunately I will never again log onto the dating match website, Neiman Marcus Preferred customers, or Weight Watchers online. Just as well.

Huey P was very patient with me and didn’t complain when I sloshed hot coffee on his keyboard, or left him up and running for weeks on end without so much as a nap. His keyboard had become coated with a sticky residue, the result of eating donuts while e-mailing and never ever dusting him off.

rest un poach I really don’t blame Huey for his early demise. He was just worn out and ready for computer heaven.  I have no idea where to take his body or how to let him rest in peace. “Computer hacking” with a hammer seems so cruel. Briefly I considered gutting him and repurposing him into a kitty litter box or maybe a flat screened ant farm, but that sounds like too much work. Perhaps I will mount Huey on concrete blocks on my front lawn.

On second thought, I’ll just put him in the back seat of my car and leave it unlocked while I go to the computer store to replace him. In case that doesn’t work, I will call my local sanitation department to find out how to responsibly dispose of the computer so the lead and metals don’t leach into our water supply.

But first I will have my son erase my hard drive so my secrets can never come back to haunt me. You never know when I might want to run for public office.

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