The Death Box

So I happened to be walking past the CNA in Bedford earlier. I try to get my steps in. So I always park on the far side of Bedford and then walk all the way through. The post office and banks are on the far side, the CNA is sorta half way, next to the toy store I sometimes frequent. I hate really dislike Edcon. So I try not support any of their divisions. Unfortunately the independent stationary store in Bedford closed. So I grit my teeth and step into their overly fluorescently lit den of awfulness.

Despite the queue and that they only have one teller (with a fuck you attitude) I managed to complete my purchase without walking out, upending any magazine stands or headbutting anyone. Although the desire to misbehave is at times unbearable.

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Got myself a Death Box. Which, as you might notice, has already been labeled as such. Its slightly bigger than A4, relatively shallow. Maybe half a shoe box in height. Ie. Perfectly suited for the role of a Death Box. Im quite excited.

So post demise this box will hold all documents required to sort out my estate. Ie.

  1. Copy of my last will and testament
  2. My eulogy (to be read by someone capable at my funeral. ie NOT the priest)
  3. An affidavit of sorts that I ‘okay’ ANY organs to be harvested for transplant purposes only. (I gave this some thought, I don’t want some fuckwit medical student poking my gall bladder with a scalpel or taking a selfie with my penis, so sorry science) I’d like whats left of my body (after the organ harvesters are done) to be stuffed with combustible material and stapled closed in pattern that resembles a smiley face. I’m presuming a Y cut here. I’m also happy with a cheap plywood coffin. Since I’m going to be burned and then mashed with ball bearings into a fine powdery consistency anyway. Don’t waste your money. Don’t keep me on the mantelpiece. If you can’t shoot my ashes into space in a rocket that will clear the debris field. Scatter me somewhere nice. If you can smuggle me into Legoland in Denmark… that would be AWESOME. Otherwise… dropkick me off table mountain or something. (I’ll give this more thought in the meantime)
  4. Stack of birthday cards for my daughter.
  5. My Gmail and MacBook password.
  6. Guardianship stuff incase both me and my wife bite the dust at the same time.

Thats all I can think of at the moment. Maybe a cryptic map. Which leads to a buried treasure.  I try to imagine if I was a kid and my parents kicked off, what I would want a death box to contain.

I don’t have any a porn stash that needs to be burned. Ha ha. I got rid that stuff ages ago. *thinks* I’m not into anything dodge… like people aren’t going to find a secret room after I snuff it with whips and chains attached to the ceiling. I’m quite boring I realise.