First thing’s first: open bar. And I mean at the ceremony, not the after-party. I want there to be a keg right next to that fucking casket. Hmmm…considering I’m an odds-on favorite to die of alcohol poisoning, do you think that would be insensitive?
Next, I want no less than 12 supermodels dressed in black, wailing and weeping uncontrollably. I’m talking rending clothing, passing out and screaming.
I want a pirate, complete with eye patch, hook, and parrot to show up, drop a stone artifact into my casket and say, “A deal’s a deal. Here’s the stone head of Karkutua’s Mine, curse you!”
14 Chinese monks in full ceremonial garb.
7 Sherpas, complete with pack mules.
5 Aborigines. When my casket is lowered into the ground, they’ll play amazing grace on their didgeridoos.
A single, gigantic Native-American to weep silently but refuse to speak a word to anyone.
An entire Ox, roasting on an open flame.
A man with an unidentifiable accent to deliver a eulogy in a language no one understands.
Except the Native American who laughs, cries, bows his head and applauds along with what is apparently the most eloquent eulogy ever—silently of course.
Man…if only there was some way for me to attend my own funeral. The whole thing sounds like entirely too much fun.
Sigh, I wish I was dead.
3 comments:
Send me an invitation!
~~LOL~~
I'm somewhat longer in the proverbial tooth than you, so it's certainly crossed my mind that I should make some arrangements – or at least some rules. Not least so that, if my religious parents outlive me, they won't get away with any sort of religious service. Of course the only thing is that I'd miss seeing their mortification.
At least if I went first it would save me the difficulties of dealing with a funeral for my father: I'm convinced that any such event will have me feeling like the eponymous 'Outsider' in Albert Camus's existentialist novel.
You'd better have a big hall for this... and I'd better get an invite. Especially since there will be a pirate there!
Post a Comment