This Is How I Want It

I thought a lot about my funeral today.

If I die soon, here's what I want to wear at my funeral: my grandpa's grey pants with the funny extra button and the funny extra mini pocket, my green Ichthus shirt (b/c it's my favorite color, and I love music), my green sweater(b/c it's my favorite color and b/c...it's a green sweater, come on), pink streaks in my hair, my painted shoes, my boy underwear with the flames, my gauged earrings, my rainbow bright belt, my hair unwashed, and red lipstick. I want there to be punk music and an open stage to tell funny stories about me.Where girls with bowling shoes can read poems about me. Where shy boys can play my favorite songs. Where girls that used up all my minutes will blabber about how I used up all the covers. Everyone will wear party hats. Even people that disliked me will come b/c there will be free Subway, Taco Bell, Chi Chi's, and Starbucks...but only ham on wheat with pickles, spicy mustard, lettuce, and pepperjack, and tea;only nacho cheese gorditas with no tomato, and Dr. Pepper;only blackened chicken with double rice, because beans give everyone gas, and a margarita;only venti no whip carmal apple ciders, and good friends. Respectively.

And when the girl who blabbers on takes off my wig, lights it on fire and puts it on a stick, and then dances around with it like a tribal chief....I swear I'll sit up and laugh.

I'm not morbid, I just can't wait to die.