I have decided that since I have no choice in the matter of how I die, then I would like to choose the day I die instead. I am dead-set on dieing on Christmas Day. Dieing on Christmas guarantees that my passing will be remembered. Dieing on Christmas is the perfect combination of romanticism and tragedy.

Timing is everything. I had originally planned on dieing a few days before Christmas, but I found out from the funeral home director that they do not perform funeral services nor burials on Christmas Day. So I wondered what the point would be to die a few days before Christmas when the funeral would be held the day after, and GOD forbid if Christmas fell on a Saturday, and I had to wait until the following Monday, even though I passed away on the Wednesday before Christmas.

With the luck I have, decomposition would start to set in prematurely, and people would only remember me for how bad I smelled before they put me in the ground. So this is why I decided that dieing on Christmas day, as opposed to just before or right after Christmas. Any deviation from the timeline would doom me to be known as 'the relative that died sometime during the holidays.'�

When I die, I do not want one of those generic turnkey funerals. You know the one:

The funeral with the soft, inaudible music that no one has ever heard before, playing in the background.

The coffin that costs about $2,000 less than the one you would have picked out for yourself, because the person who you deemed 'Executer of the Will'�, decided to save some money and take what was left and place a down payment on that car he/she saw beckoning from the car lot on the way to make the funeral arrangements.

Oh'� and NO VIDEO CAMERAS! I hate those things; just as much as I hate telephones, and feel lie they should be banned from all funeral homes and cemeteries. I don't understand the morbid fascination of others to remember others in their worst possible moment. I am barely photogenic in life as it is, and I shriek at the idea of how heinous I will look in death, YIKES!

You see, I have always been misunderstood in life, so I know that the same will hold true in death. It is kind of like the time when I was sleeping in the same bed with a friend of mine and sometime during my slumber I cuddled up to him, he got the wrong idea and thought I was putting the moves on him, and we ended up having our first gay experience with each other. I know, bad example, but it still proves my point.

I can see it now:

**DREAM SEQUENCE**

Family, friends, neighbors, and curious onlookers file into the funeral home chapel. I can tell that most of the women are and/or have been crying. Most of the men have either cried when no one was looking, or are fighting the urge to cry altogether.

I hear people say all of the time that when they pass onto the other side, that they want people to rejoice and celebrate the event. Not me. I want a complete mixture of tears, moans, and a few wails inspired by insurmountable loss to fill the air during my funeral. I would be even more excited to see a few casket divers throw themselves on my coffin just for good measure. I know that this might be asking too much, but I look at it this way, people are going to cry at a funeral whether they want to or not. I want people to know that it is okay to cry, and that by crying not only will they feel better, but I wont follow them home and haunt their ass.

Hey, wait a minute. What is that over there? Someone is laughing? There is always one at every funeral. Someone who can find something funny enough to laugh about while the majority of the people around him or her is enduring the loss of me, I mean a loved one.

'Hey stop that! Have some respect for the dead, will you? If I can control my urges to run up behind people, throw my hands around their eyes and say 'Guess who!'� then I am sure you can manage to control your laughing until the services are over. I wont' haunt you this time, but it would be in your best interest not to let this happen again.'�

Despite the rudeness of one, it seems that services are going to be quite lovely, and that we will have a full house this evening. The pews are filled from front to back with people that I know, people I don't really know all that well, people that I have no clue as to who they are, and those that read the obituaries and pretend to be a loved one so that they can get a free meal.

Wow! Look at all these people. Oh, that's right. It has to be one of two things, schools are out for the holidays, or people must have decided to take their vacations toward the end of the year. The amount of people that are attending my funeral that I don't know is absolutely mind-boggling.

Well, in any case, 'Thank you for coming to my funeral and enjoy the services. Programs and tissues are available upon request. Don't be shy, if you need one, don't be afraid to ask.'�

Despite not knowing some of the people here, I really have a strong suspicion that the services have the potential to be quite moving, and tear jerking.

I think the Christmas tree with the with the skeleton tree topper donning a Santa suit and the shirtless thong wearing Go-Go boys dancing in a cage underneath a disco ball to Techno music is just a bit much, but that's just me. Overall however, I feel like the services are going to be just wonderful.

Look at me, there I am, sleeping ever so permanently in my custom made glass coffin with the oxygen tank (just in case), and the six speaker sound system with the lifetime subscription to satellite radio. Hmm. I wonder if there is a catch to that one.

My arms are crossed and I am lying on my back. I do wish that someone had informed them that I find sleeping on my side the most comfortable position, and that normally, under better circumstances, I would have never been caught dead in that disco, leisure suit atrocity that they have picked out for me. But since they have decided to bury me in it any way, I really wish that they wouldn't have cut the back out of it, because it makes me feel fat.

Well, it finally appears that everyone has made it into the chapel. Oops! Spoke too soon. We have a straggler. Don't close those doors just yet. I see that someone was running a little late. I am sure that they will try to persuade someone that it was due to heavy traffic, when in reality, they just simply overslept.

Okay, well I think that it is definitely safe to start now.

I will be the first to admit that I had no idea that my immediate family was so large. My immediate family has taken up the first six rows of pews on both sides of the chapel between the lot of them. There's my mom and dad, my brothers and sisters, and my Grandmother. The only thing that I find perplexing, is why they don't look as sad as I had originally anticipated, I mean expected. Oh, that explains it, Life Insurance checks, and better known as 'the inheritance'�.

It would have been nice if they had stopped planning their financial futures with their newfound monetary windfall until after the services. This is just unbelievable!

Nevertheless, isn't this just the most moving thing? Look at all of these people coming to pay their respects to me and/or my family. From the looks of things, some of these people are aging; it won't take long before some of them are going to be joining me on the 'other side'�.

They cannot be serious! I cannot believe that they actually picked Brother Roy to preside over my funeral. This guy gets way too excited when he talks about people going home to see Jesus. If I am not mistaken, I believe that he was told to tame his enthusiasm while delivering sermons. His sermons have been historically so overzealous, that they have inspired to go home and visit Jesus a little earlier than GOD had originally intended.

Oh well, there is nothing I can do about it now. I guess that I should just listen to what the man has to say about me.

The services must be starting now. People have gotten really quiet, and it appears that Brother Roy is about to approach the podium to deliver his self- written me-oriented eulogy. He is shuffling the papers in his hand, taps them on the podium to make them all nice and neat, clears his throat, and begins to deliver the eulogy the only way an exuberant man of GOD knows how.








Brothas and Sistas, boys and girls of all ages, we are gathered here today to pay our respects to a man who was in love with life.

Praise Jesus!

I will never forget the day that the doctors told him that his life on this world had dwindled down to mere hours.

Can I hear an Amen?!

I was there that day Brothas and Sistas. Oh, yes I was! I was there when he began kicking, screaming, and threatening the Grim Reaper with physical violence if that sneaky devil dared try any 'funny'� business. Oh, yes I was there Brothas and Sistas.

I was there that day that he began to pray. He prayed so vigorously Brothas and Sistas that I began to think that he had been blessed with the gift of 'Tongues'�. But, you I know that someone who has missed that much church could have never receive that gift.

Praise GOD!

I was there that day when our Brotha in Christ tried to persuade the doctors to do anything in their power to extend his life on Earth for just one more day. As he found out, GOD's curfew is a strict one, and when GOD wants you home, you best be there, or GOD is sending someone to come get you.


Can I hear a Testimonay?

He always said that he wanted to leave this life on a snowy Christmas day. GOD gave him the Christmas, but saw fit for the weather outside to be a bright, sunny, and muggy 90 degrees instead. Well, at least GOD gave him half of what our Brotha in Christ wanted. Isn't GOD mysterious Brothas and Sistas?'�

Can I get an Amen?!

I was there by his side as our Brotha in Christ lie there on his deathbed. His words to me were:

Brother Roy, you have to do something. Make GOD take cousin John-John instead. He was always going to prison for something, and I am sure that he has done something that he would receive the death penalty for anyway.

You know what he did Brothas and Sistas? He pulled me closer to him and slipped me a $20.00 bill and said, 'Make it happen Brotha Roy, Make it happen.'�

I took that $20.00 Brothas and Sistas.

Oh, yes I did. Do you want to know what I did with that $20.00?

I put $20.00 worth of fuel in my car in the name of Jesus!

Oh, yes I did. Oh, yes I did. Praise be to Glory!


Okay, okay. I admit it. Everything that Brother Roy has said is true. I was working under the assumption that Brother Roy had connections and that he could pull a few strings and twist a couple of arms for me.

When begging and pleading with Brother Roy didn't work, I just knew that if I prayed hard enough, God would smite Brother Roy for not doing his job, and I could just pretend that none of this mess had ever happened, and be on my merry ole way. All right so my optimism was just a wee bit thwarted by the situation at hand, but there is no reason to cry over spilt milk, now is there.

Oh, look. My family has asked my Partner in Life, Jerry to say a couple of words about me. They have always liked Jerry better than me anyway. He was like the son they never had, and have welcomed him into the family with open arms.

He is so creative sometimes, and rumor has it that he wrote a special poem to commemorate our love. I know that I will miss him dearly, and greet him on the other side when it's his turn to go.

Jerry approaches the podium with his single piece of paper in hand, he lightly taps the piece of paper on the podium, clinches both sides of the piece of paper as if he were going to rip it in half, clears his throat, and he begins to read the poem that he wrote, entitled: 'Goodbye'�.

Goodbye
By Jerry

We were saddened to hear
that he was going to die
we could not say get well
so we just said 'Goodbye.'�
He fought for his life
Tooth and nail
But, as you can see
To no avail
Cry your cries
Shed your tears
Because as we all know
The buck stopped here

The end

I was actually a bit moved by the whole simplicity of his creative endeavor. (Wipes tear) I can tell that the people in the chapel really liked it too by the cheers and the standing ovation they gave him.

After Jerry reads his poem, Brother Roy takes to the podium once more and announces that the family had requested some songs to be played. Music always makes people cry at funerals. Especially music that they know you liked when you were still alive.

'I will go down with this ship.'� That's me singing along. Great Choice! This song is so pretty that it is sure to be not a single dry eye in the house.

'It's amazing how you can speak right to my heart.'� That's me singing along again. I think they played this one because it was the first song I ever had the nerve to get up in front of people and Karaoke before.

'I'm not religious, but I feel such love.'� I really like that song. I think they played that one because'� Whoops! I don't think they like this song as much as the other two.

I see some of the older, more devoutly religious ones in the group have passed out, and the arm 'flailers'� have gone into a spiritually induced epileptic fit. Yep, its final they really hated that song. I kind of knew that something was amiss when I heard someone in the crowd scream 'Oh, sweet Mary, mother of Christ!'� and saw them trying to cool themselves off with multiple Bibles.

'Oh, Lord!'� I heard someone else yelp. 'That was his way of letting us know that he wasn't right with the Lord.'� 'That poor family, I wonder if they knew.'�

Yeah, You definitely know that everything has pretty much went to Hell in a hand basket when the preacher gathers the few who are still conscious for an emergency prayer session and begins by stretching out his arms while clinching his fists and angrily proclaims, 'GOD will not be mocked!'�

***End Dream Sequence**

Whoa, that was a little too intense for me, that whole situation got ugly real fast, and from what I could tell, it was only going to get worse.

You might be thinking that I have an overactive imagination, and that there is not a snowball's chance in Hell of this ever really happening. Maybe, but we really wont know for sure until the time comes, now will we. The only thing that I am certain of however is that when my time on this world is through, I want to go out with a bang. No ifs, ands, or buts about it. I want people to walk out my funeral services with a warm fuzzy feeling that they have gotten to witness something really special. Something so special that they feel as though they are privileged to see the services for free, all the while wondering why they weren't charged a fee for admission.

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