Ahhhh help me!?

A few minutes ago, I was having a mental breakdown when Gramps and I were chit chatting about global warming, a very serious subject, as my great Gramps died in the last ice age. I was convulsing and foaming at the mouth, completely in shock and total disbelief as to the words that were flowing out from behind his newly polished LumiNeers. I watched my gramps rise and saunter to the restroom where he sat down on the porcelain throne. He began to shed tears, and between his choking fits, he started to slip into the crevice until he was lodged between the wall and the toilet. Unfortunately for my Gramps, I did not hear his cries. I had to call the police due to his hour long absence. I was eating kettle corn by the time they arrived. They immediately sprinted into the restroom, a place I had not thought to look, and they tried to remove him from the crevice, but his mounds of cellulite were well suctioned to the side of the porcelain monstrosity. There were maggots eating out his eye sockets, and flies hovering around the eyesore of a corpse. They took Country Crock and smothered it all over his wedged appendages. By the time they were finished getting him out, it was apparent we couldn’t have an open casket wake. What should I do for Gramps in this time of need?