What to do with the body.

If I could choose how I wanted my body prepared for the afterlife, I would not choose cremation or mummification, but rather exploitation. My body would go to a taxidermy, where I would be laminated into a pose that was half “Mentos” commercial and half Fonzie “Aaay!” I would be dressed like Neo from the second Matrix and have a “Ghostbusters” proton-pack on my back and a neuralyzer in my hand. Next to the Geek Adonis would be a panel with three buttons—each one would play a recording of the three phrases I used most in life:

Button 1— “Hello.”
Button 2— “I’m fine, and you?”
Button 3— “What the!”

As for my organs and insides and stuff, they would be the second stunt contestants would have to eat on “Fear Factor.” I’m not sure yet if I would want them to eat me raw or mixed into a shake; all I know is they would have ten minutes to do it. That episode would play on a continuous loop on a television next to my body.

These are my final wishes, and though I don’t plan to be going anywhere soon, I just hope “Fear Factor” is still around when I do.