My Final Request

For years, whenever the question "when you die .." comes up in conversation, I always say the same thing.
This is my final request:

I want to be cremated. Immediately. No bullsh*t lying around in a freezer drawer, no pointless medical exam, and I sure as hell don't want to be embalmed and buried.

My ashes are to be kept by the person I am closest to at the time of my death (literally, - not a nurse or doctor; a friend or loved one - whoever is in the closest proximity to my body when I breathe my last breath) until the date of my would-be next birthday.

On that day, I want a wake. Not a funeral, a celebration. All my friends and family, and whoever else decides to show, will board a yacht or some other large boat suitable for drunken parties, and leave port.

This part is the crux of it all; a quarter mile from shore, any person on board (save captain and crew, unless I knew them personally) who is dressed in black clothing, is to be forced overboard. Walk the plank, f*ckers. Throw in a few pool noodles, maybe a life raft or two for the dumbsh*ts that got on a boat without know how to swim, and let 'em swim back to land.
I don't want to be mourned, damn it. I want the memory of my death to be a celebration of my life!

So, if anyone reading this attends my wake; wear something cheerful and brightly colored. Wear a clown suit. Dress like Lady Gaga. Show up bare a**ed with nothing but t*tty tassles on (guys too).
Get so drunk you forget I'm gone. Do drugs you didn't know existed. Dance naked in the moonlight. Be a hedonist, just for me. Celebrate that I am no longer here, revel in the fact. Miss me, if you must, but don't say it.

When every one is completely hammered, the person with my ashes will gain everyones attention. Fill glasses all around with a double shot of vodka, straight. Pour one for me. Make a toast, say something wise a** and cynical, say "Let's do this sh*t." Raise your glass and mine, pour mine into my ashes, and drink up. That done, knock me right over the side, into the sea. No fanciful cloud of me to dust everyone, ruining drinks and causing sneezing. No drawn out hush, not idiotic memory sharing. Just 'glub' - and gone. Then get your butt back in the mix - your not going home until the ship is dry as my ashes so recently were.

That's what I want. I want my 'last' birthday to be my best moment. I will try to be there. You won't know if I am, and I don't know if I'll be able. You party like hell any f*ckin' way.
An Ep User An EP User
Jan 10, 2013