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One of my friends confided in me that she wants to be stuffed and put on display in a museum when she dies. She made me promise to call the taxidermist, when she expires. Personally I could care less what happens to me when I die, bury me, use my corpse for science or transplant donation, or even dress me up like i was alive and let two punk kids scam my beach house for the weekend (wasnt that a movie?). I dont care because Im dead.
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Now the swinging bridge<br />Is quieted with creepers. . . <br />Like our tendrilled life. -Basho
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