My sociopath mother has a problem with the prospect of cremation. She thinks it is a sin to wantonly destroy this planet's only source of pure, naturally occurring beauty.
To deny the world this time capsule of beauty, would be to throw mankind back to the dark ages. She must be available to be exhumed and studied by future generations. Only the Barbarian can serve as a benchmark for the women of the future to aspire to.
She is well aware of the void her passing will impose on the world. Those people whose live's have been forever changed by her consummate beauty and refinement. It's her duty to assure these people that the beauty that sustains them now, will never perish from the earth.
She must archive and preserve this resource so freely given to her by the very hand of god.
And she must never falter in the quest to have her remains judiciously prepared and preserved. The one of a kind portrait that is her face, painted by the hand of god, can never be replicated by mortal hands. Only the original will be sufficient to draw from in the future. And these generations must know that the comfort and joy derived from her beauty in the past, will last forever more.
One can only hope that this will soothe the anguished crowds that will take to the streets, weeping and rioting, at the news of her death.
Pull this leg and it plays jingle bells. No one alive has ever been able to figure out what go's on in that head of hers. Not even her.
My mother has her funeral bought and paid for. She has her dress and casket. All top shelf.
The casket is a hermetically sealed behemoth. Air and water tight. Bug, varmint, and Jehovah's Witness resistant.
She will have the freshest corpse money can buy.
She is busy locking in contractual agreements for immunity from invading bacteria, mold, and insects.
Only the insects have yet to sign letters of intent.
One thing about air tight caskets.
By keeping air out, a sealed casket, in anything but the most frigid weather, becomes a crock pot that turns the body into a smelly toxic stew.
Formaldehyde buys three days of unfestered viewing of the body.
But for the long haul, a sealed casket is a self basting cooking bag.
Preventing entry of the elements also prevents exit of the elements.
So the casket becomes a pressurized canister of formaldehyde, methane and just a lot of garden variety stank.
And when it eventually leaks, and they all eventually do, those liquids are expelled with great force.
Karma IS a bitch Babbs.
Karma is a bitch.
I hereby rescind all threats made expressly, or implied, to light my mothers head afire like the Hindenburg.
I won't do a thing.
I will sit back and have a cold beer, in the hot sun, knowing that under my feet she is baking like a pie.