A faux British gentleman discusses his wishes.
|I want to be cremated. I feel it's important that fact is well known just in case I unexpectedly die. With my recent assignment, that's an all too possible outcome, and quite frankly, cremated is the way to go because I've no doubt, should I be buried, there would be a multitude of various unsavory types doing despicable things to my corpse. They might even go as far as to resurrect my soul into servitude, and I can tell you now, being brought back to a limited life only to sing show tunes for some sappy bloke who thinks I owe him something because I was particularly rude to him is not something I want to happen, nor will I risk even a minor chance of such an outcome.
So just remember that. Remember that one day you will die and if you don't want to end up as someone's personal radio then get cremated.
I will say there's more to the cremation thing then just that preservation of dignity. I honestly just like fire. Which seems contradictory considering I rather be cold than hot, I love the snow, and winter is my favorite season. But I'm really just not a bright warm person. At least that's what I'm told. But fire has nothing to do with any of those things, fire is two sides of a coin, creation and destruction, and that is my job in a nutshell. Well sort of. We'll get to that later.
The reason I share all this is to bestow upon you the simple realization that I hate the sun. The dreadful heat it brings and all the blinding light is absolutely annoying. More than that, it's near impossible for me to walk around in the daylight without one of two things happening. One, I sweat like a stuck pig, or two, I burn like a ginger. And I'm not a ginger. That's not to say I don't like those pale skinned fellows, I just feel the need for people to distinguish between me and those of European descent. Despite my choice of words, I'm not from, nor am I related to anyone living (past or present), in the United Kingdom. I just happen to enjoy doing a faux British accent and saying bloody hell all the time.
My point is, it's hotter than hell out (literally, and trust me, I know) and I am still waiting on my dear brother to get off his lazy ass and beam me outta here. He said 0500 hours, it's 0700. I'm burning almost as much as the ground is.
The things I could tell you about my brother, that idiot and his endless tales of stupidity. Would you believe he once tried to feed me ground unicorn when I was little more than 2 years old? That stuff is poison on hoofs. Honestly.
Ah, but there's the light tunnel, my ride so to speak. Further stories will have to wait I suppose, that is if you continue to read this story. I'm sure you think I'm crazy, I won't deny that I am, but to confirm such a suspicion I'd think you'd need to read more, for proof and all that. Alas, that's your choice and I won't promise safety nor mundane if you so choose to join me on this endeavor. That smart ones always come though.
And so, take my hand and join the light, will you?