…Had a very funny, yet quite moribund conversation today with a few folk at work about how some guy we know would be found dead at home after a night on the sauce, face down in a microwave lasagne. Got me to thinking how I would like to be found and how I’ll probably ‘be’ found.
I would like to be found after an incident involving a blow out on a bunch of properly dirty, anything for cash strippers, cheap sniff and a bucket of vodka in a dirty roach motel somewhere in the poorer part of Europe. The maid finding my bloated body sat in a faux-leather armchair, wearing a gimp mask, powder all over the place with the last of my blood still keeping my dick hard due to a brass cock ring. And all at the tender age of 90! I think that’s how many of us would like to check out. With a bang!
The reality is I’m probably just going to get something that they cant cure (or that I cant afford to cure) at a fairly youngish age and end up popping my clogs with one of them breathing masks on with a bag on my hip to piss in and a tube coming out of my chest. I’d like to think that there will be a few friends or relatives there but I’m such a miserable, hate filled bastard that it’ll just be a nurse or something. And then there’s the funeral to look forward to!
Again, I would like strippers to be involved, bundles of them, tits and arseholes everywhere! Strobes, neon and poles! And none of that black armband shit, go colourful, maybe a Hawaiian theme, all grass skirts and loud shirts. Cocktails in every hand, them bastards that have half a rain forest worth of fruit in them and a tonne of rum or vodka. Yes, yes! I’d want the music to be either really up beat, like happy hardcore or 80’s pop or, something really fucking depressing, maybe some Lenard Cohen! And drugs, lots and lots of drugs. I want everyone to get completely ruined. I’ll put a stipulation in my will for a shit-ton of cash to be used for massive chemical session for my mates. Smiles not tears!
Truth is I’m probably not going to know what’s up after I flake out so just stuff me in a bin bag, say a few words with a can of beer or two, then chuck me in the river. That will do me nice.