If I Die in The Combat Zone

Well, cremate me. Please. I wouldn’t want to rot.

I want a service, complete with eulogies but no gambling. Please. Honor my strong feelings against gambling. Also, allow me a last chance to be venerated. Rest assured, I will be there listening.

No crying. Please. I hate soap operas. I got along my life with no one crying for me. No one has to do it for my first few days as a spirit.

Listen to my music. Please. I’d hate to be a cliché and be pulled by a fancy dead person’s car which plays music I won’t even sing along with. Play whatever is in my MP3 player.

And yeah, do recycle my insides. Please. I didn’t sign an organ donor card for nothing. I’d much rather give away things I wouldn’t need anyway.

Read my blog. Please. Even with my heart pumping, I advertise my blog what more in death? When no one can run after me for saying the things I say? Besides, as pathetic as it may sound, my blog probably is my legacy. Indulge in it.

Don’t think I brought secrets with me in my life after death. (Or is it life after life?) Please. Most likely, I’ve distributed every bit of my secrets to those whom I trust. You’d be surprised that there are a lot of you! You may all convene and compare notes during my service.

Pray for me. Please. I may need a lot of your prayers. Even I would never know where I am destined to go. Pray for me and I promise you, it will be the last thing I’d ask from you.

***I just realized (for the nth time) that life is short. I might as well write this now while I can. And, yes, I am in the mood to think morbid thoughts.

Sleep well, everyone!