When I die, which I pray is horrific beyond description, I want it to
be happy. I want it to be fun. Everyone fantasizes about what their
funeral will be like: who will attend; how many exes will be there,
gnashing their teeth at the loss of the one they should not have let
go; the heart-felt engravings adorning their tombstone; the songs; et
cetera. My dreams have always been disturbing, and that's when they are at their best.
I would like to be dressed like a clown and have a spring loaded
casket, in the off chance I am not cremated, so that half way through
the 23rd Psalm it activates and sends my corpse flying out the coffin
into a wall with a sickening splat-like sound. If we could rig it so
my head pops off on impact and flies into the congregation, that would
be just touching. (Literally touching...my head...bouncing off people.
Good luck sleeping after my dead, clown-faced cranium comes flying at
you. That is the kind of image that even drugs can lend no respite.)
Or perhaps dress me up like Batman. Or polaroids of my closest friends
violating my corpse, littered around my body, so people HAVE to look
at them as they pay their respects. (I know it is sick. Don't look at
me like that, you judgemental bastards.) Or instead of a coffin, dress
me like a cowboy and strap me to a mechanical bull at the front of the
cathedral, and let the thing run all the way through the wake. I'd be
up there a-floppin and a-slappin around while my loved ones are trying
not to look and giggle. Or just keep it simple: Me, in a suit, face
down with a knife stuck in my back...maybe a little Bugs-Bunny-like
sign in one hand that says "Call 911!" (I really, REALLY like that last one.
Makes me laugh everytime.)
Also in the congregation, I want a few plants. Not like foliage
plants, but inmates from the local mental institution or shell-shock
wing of the VA hospital; and the older, and the senile-er, the better.
During my eulogy (Or eulogies, preferrably, mostly coming from the
more bat-shit attendees) they could howl shit out like "I just fucking
crapped in the dishwasher!" or "Yahtzee!" or "Don't touch slippery
frog penis!" (Which is good advice anyway you slice it)
or hopefully something even more crazy. Ooooh, and about
three people with violent tourettes. I mean it. Wheel those psychos
and nuts in by the bushell and let them go totally ape-testicles in
the joint. I want my survivors to be unable to maintain a respectable
morose. Get one of those monkeys in the little suits from the circus
and load him up with PCP and Viagra so he is leaping salaciously onto
people and jerking off like a 16 year-old Trekkie EVERYWHERE.
Just picture it. When one of the more Schizo in the audience screams
"I have monkey cum in my eye!" it really won't be so far beyond the
pale. In fact, that might be the most sensible thing at the whole
service.
Also the music. Everybody has a list of songs they want as their shell
is paraded out of the church, and it is always the same sad bullshit.
Something by Bach or Mozart or John Lennon or Skynyrd, something
easy listening, maybe some of the more radical people claim to want
"Highway to Hell". I also have a song list:
"Kill you" by Eminem for starters. (Just the thought of everyone
enjoying a moment of silence in respect for the dearly departed while
that crazy white boy hollars, "Bitch, Imma Kill You! You don't want to
fuck with me!"...it brings a tear to my eye. (HUGE fucking
smiley-face) )
I would also like that song they play at circuses, the "Dee dee deedle
eedle eee deedle dee" one. (When the flying clown flies out the
coffin, it would almost be poetry, especially if my body sticks to the
wall somehow. Old, dead clown dangling there, nuts screaming
obscenities, monkey cock like a blurry fury in the rafters, seltzer
water bottle glued in my hand. Who doesn't want to die like this?
Ya' know, with all the dignity and shit.)
And the coup de gras, get some really skanky strippers (And I mean
REAL skanky. Like the kind of women that have tattoos INSIDE their
vaginas) to come out and rub their crotches all over me to 2 Live
Crew's "Can a Nigga Get a Table Dance?" (Preacher: "And in honor to
the departed's wishes, I would like to welcome Porche and Mercedes to
the altar to rub stink and herpes all over the cadaver. He will be in
death how he was in life...just an awful, awful person.")
But, don't get me wrong I am not necessarily for all that slight humor
and grandstanding (SLIGHT HUMOR???). I am a man of the people, and
want to die for the people. Perhaps, just cremate me...ashes to ashes
and dust to dust. (If you don't take it out and use it, it's bound to
rust. (Sorry, got a little sidetracked.) ) Then take my ashes out to a
professional sports arena, during a big game, load it into a T-shirt
cannon and blast me onto everyone in the stands. At first, they would
be all, "What the fuck?" Then, as people start finding things like
jewelry and spitting out the ashes, it would dawn on them that it was
people and they would fucking lose it. Just rank pandemonium. Hell, I
would freak out if I were them.
My tombstone should read something like: "You are standing on my
groin" or "These maggots are ticklish" or "He's fucking sheep in Heaven now".
Life may be more than just a game, but death should ALWAYS be a joke,
and I want to make sure that the last laugh is on someone other than
me.
God bless America and cause I don't need romance, all I need to know
is...can a nigga get a table dance?
P.S. My tags for this one:
Death, Funeral, Dying, Love, Cremation, Heaven, Burial, Ashes, Herpes
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