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If I die young

February 16th, 2012

As I was listening to the radio the other day, I heard the song “If I Die Young” by The Band Perry. Throughout the song, Kimberly Perry makes a very keen observation – life is fragile. You really never know when it’s going to be your time to exit stage left.

Last week, I had a crippling case of the rhinovirus. It seemed that my death was imminent. Fortunately, I beat the odds, kicked the cold and lived to talk about it. But it certainly got me thinking.

So, in the event that I die young, I want my wishes recorded and on public record, so that no one is confused about what to do with my corpsey remains.

First, let’s talk about my funeral. I’m a guy, so I don’t want flowers. If you really feel the need to adorn my body with foliage, then go for something more masculine than lilies and carnations – perhaps a small tree? I suppose it’s up to you once I’m gone. Just please don’t emasculate me at my own viewing. I’ll haunt you.

As for what I want to be wearing in the casket, I want to be prepared to go for a run as soon as I hit the afterlife. So don’t worry about dressing me up in a fancy suit. I think I just want to be shirtless, with my America short shorts and my Vibram Five Fingers. I hear there are some great trails in Heaven (and in the event that I don’t end up in Heaven, I’ve heard that Hell is good for heat and hill training).

I want my eulogy to be epic too. Don’t worry; I have taken care of that for you too. Please just follow the Mad Libs template below and I’ll be a happy ghost:

“Well, we all saw this one coming. That Brian Bayer was definitely a (noun). It’s just too bad he had to die (epic way in which I perish).

My favorite memory with Brian was when we (verb, past tense), and the police didn’t even catch us. That was fun.

The thing that I think people loved most about him was his knack for (pick a gerund). Nobody could do it like he could.

One time, when I sat down with him, we just talked for hours about (upper level philosophical concept applied to something very base).

And boy, was he good at (choose: running/ his career/ sex). We’ll certainly all miss that.”

That’s your start. You can fill in the rest of the eulogy for yourself. I trust you.

So after you’ve put the final nail in my coffin, I have a very specific request for my burial. For most, the decision is between cremation and burial. I don’t want either of these.

Build me a pyramid.

I’m not asking for anything crazy huge, like the pyramids of Giza. After all I haven’t done anything great like the pharaohs did to deserve their pyramids (such as being born or worshipping Cryptophus, the part-hippo, part-man, part-Bieber god of harmony and discord).

I will settle for a nice two to three-story pyramid, as long as it has at least two false chambers to trick potential grave robbers.

Instead of my personal belongings though, I just want to be entombed with one thing – a real light saber. It’s something that I will probably never be able to enjoy in life, so I would like the opportunity to play with one in death. I think that’s simple enough.

Now, every great pyramid has some type of statues in front of it, guarding the tomb. For mine, I would like two bronze statues – on the left, Harrison Ford in his “Indiana Jones” attire. And on the right, Brendan Fraser in his “The Mummy” attire. If for some reason it is impossible to find one of these statues, I suppose I can settle for a Nicolas Cage statue from “National Treasure” (but if it’s from any of his other movies, then, again, I will haunt you, because “National Treasure” was literally his only good movie).

So if you follow these instructions closely enough, I promise I will have a happy afterlife. But if you don’t, then you better call Ghostbusters, because I’m going to Paranormal Activity your poor mortal soul, and not even that tool from “Ghost Hunters” will be able to stand up to me.