WHEN I DIE.

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My eulogy must be crafted on imported marble.... My name must be in gold and old English font... I don't want my face to be placed in the page of obituaries.... You cannot just paraphrase my life story into one statement..  life well lived... Or gone too soon.... Or God loved you the most.... Infact don't even say promoted to Glory... What Glory have I been promoted to?

My place of death should be a museum... Let the children of my children learn about the father of their fathers....I want to be buried in my own house if possible frozen and preserved in my living room... I don't think it is well to cover me with soil dirt and mud.....

I don't want crying mourners on my death day... It is forbidden to cry, weep or even sorrow.. tell my mother that I said crying will make her weak...And when you are weak you are vulnerable... Tell my brother to replace me momentarily in my clique... Tell my local member of Parliament that my funeral is more important than his pleas.... Tell him I said he must only talk to my family members and not any other person....Tell him I said he should not expect any important treatment he doesn't even know my name....

Tell my priest he must make his prayers short... She must not use my death as a challenge or lesson... I want my tombstone to be curved from malate.... I want it in a quire shape... Not dorm or the shape of an epitaph... Make sure the stone is neither white nor black....

Make sure no news takes place that day... No schools open...Infact if I die by road then those vehicles must be government property.....I want the video of my last day taken... Not re enacted...How will you be precise.... And then finally... I don't want a Wooden coffin...

The son of this soil is sick... I don't want trees destroyed to pave way for my rest... I don't want people to labour with hammers and nails... But something tells me if you must... Then kill me by crucification.... Otherwise I want to lay my head on a soft pillow and mattress... Covered in a designer bedsheet and duvet....My grave must be cemented and tiled.... Son of the moon wants functioning light bulb in his tomb...How will I invite my ghost friends in a dark hole....

Lastly I want my story to be studied in schools... The story of me must be written in italics....And fed to both the young and the old.. if I die in a plane crush don't burry me... Let my remains be fed to fish.... And my bones buried in deep sea... That's when I die....

©Hurt_Surgeon™🐾

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