A fake death

The below obituary is fictitious. All quotes,actions, alleged perceptions, and general good view of said writer are to be presumed imaginative and may not apply to the general perception of who this person is. The below is only true in the sense of a complete autobiography and the end of the world according to Nicholas Cage.

Andy Gilbert died today, December 21st 2012 with the rest of the world, with the exception of Brett and Ben who died slightly later by using Andy as a shield against the fiery inferno.
Andy Gilbert grew up in Biddeford, Maine, AKA the Biddo, AKA Maine, AKA “That’s a real state? I thought it was part of Mass.” Growing up Andy wanted to be an archaeologist, an idea that shortly ended after he realized that Indiana Jones was not a real archaeologist. He spent much of his early life in Maine suburbia playing sports (despite having no skill at it) and reading (only after the Harry Potter books came out). For those who have a hard time picturing any civilization in Maine, let alone Suburbia, think of a normal white-picket-fence setting—then add a moose.
His ability to write came from his father’s side of the family. Growing up, his father would always tell him bird stories when Andy went to bed. “Okay,” Andy once admitted, “not always, but enough that I remember them, or at least two of them.” His ability to dream up fiction came not from his father though, but his mother who was always a dreamer.
He attended St. James school and until college hated polo shirts because of it. He eventually gave into wearing them again, but only during his college years. After a brief four years at Biddeford High School, which is not worth mentioning, because after all it’s Biddeford, he went to University of New Hampshire after visiting the college to see a girl he use to date. He immediately fell in love with the college.
After switching his major from History to Journalism, Andy found his true passion. “He was always working on or talking about a story,” commented a girl he frequently and exclusively dated who went by the nickname ‘Jelly Bean.’ “He was always like blah, blah, blah, it’s a story, blah, blah, blah. I’d always say ‘less talking more loving.’”
He also joined a fraternity, which surprised many people. He allegedly only got in because they didn’t know he was an Journalism major and not just an English major who they could use for writing. “Had we known he was a journalist,” his Big Brother commented, “we probably would have killed him on the spot.”
Andy would wish to be known for his humor, shown by writing this five minutes before being pushed into the flames. Damn you Brett…