I'm drivin to work the other day
listenin to my radio
and they aint playin a damn thing
just got two diskless jockeys
with that yuck yuck crap
ya don't wanna be listening to in the morning
they only talk for two minutes at a time
cause you can only freekin up and yuck so many times
then they play car commercials
people screaming all
COME ON DOWN
with cheesy sound effects
frankly it sounds like a gang of chimpanzees
carryin on and a riotin in full knuckle drag
well I got yer freekin ONE DAY ONLY
right here...

so the hell with that
I change stations
and catch some chick
talkin about the newest thing in funeral services
and at first I thought she was sayin
they strap yer corpse to a giant bottle rocket
and whilst yer family and relatives
and interested onlookers watch
they shoot you off
and you explode with a BOOM overhead
lightin up the night sky
with a burst of fireworks
and I'm thinkin
dayam these people better have umbrellas...

but after a bit I learnt
they don't just strap yer ass to a rocket
ya has to get cremated first
then they put some of yer 7 pounds of leftovers
into each firework
and they launch yer ash into the night
leaving yer crispy bits to slowly descend
onto land or sea (yer choice)...

ya know
when you really make yerself
think about stuff like this
and about the options you have
this is way better than
them freekin car commercials...

so the radio chick is saying
that if the place yer gonna get dispersed at
is within 25 miles of the company
that gets to light the fuses
cause they own the company
they'll provide transportation of the cremains
from the mortuary to the service site
so ya don't has to get it all over yer hands...

k, so let's spose I'm dead now
so dead my cremains has gotten chilled
next thing I know I'm being mixed up
with dynamite and gun powder
and all that shit they use to make fireworks
and BOOM
death warmed over...

and as a few grains of me falls on Aunt Ruthy-Mae
who's on the beach
tryin to stuff her big ol' ass into a lawn chair
what can't possibly support that kinda weight
sniffin "I only never visited cause I din't like him"
and then BOOM
and she's all "OOOOooooooooo DID YOU SEE THAT!?"
and my goody two-shoes cousin Vincent
in those loafers what look like wimmins shoes,
with tassles and shit all over em
says "I only wish he were here
to watch hisself get blowed up
and it woulda been a lot cheaper
to just set off a couple of cherry bombs
under his box and BLAM
he's soakin up the oil on our driveway"
so I'm like geezus freekin crispies
and send a whole cloud of my dust
to land all over Vincent's sissy shoes...

and in case everyone din't get
some of me all over them
I'd have arranged for the video option
and have the entire affair recorded
so people can pop in a DVD
and watch my cremains get dispersed
over and over
and even use that slow motion/stop frame crap
what otherwise is only good
for the nekid parts of movies...

I spose I'm kinda leanin
towards havin my ashes fired off
over the Washington Monument...

I'm prolly gonna come back, you know
which'll be pretty cool
cause ghosts are invisible and stuff...

but maybe I'll just come back as another person
and I'll be like a niche market courier
my job is to pickup dead people's cremainage
and drive it to Won Tong Fu's Fireworks and Cremains Disposal Unfreekinlimited
or, like in this case,
directly to the displaygrounds
for an on-site re-mix...

so I'm driving to the beach
as per the wishes of one Mr. Chris P. Shakes
who's now in the box riding shotgun
I'm already running late
so I'm doin maybe 80 in a 45 miles per freekin hour zone
I'm the only dayam one on the road
and all the sudden here's this cop
doin his lights behind me...

so I pulls over and this cop walks up
all "let me see yer license and registration"
so whilst I reach over to the glove box
he's shinin his light
around the inside of my car
and when he sees the box on the seat next to me
he says "what's in the box?'...

so I'm like, some dead guy
and he's all, get out of the car
well the next thing ya know
there's 15 cop cars on the scene
all with their psycho-lites in full glaragement
and yer bent over behind yer car with 6 cops
friskin and pokin at you
and 3 canine units
one of which is just an interested passerby
sniffin at yer ass...

then they has you touch yer nose
and walk a straight line
and they gives ya the breathalyzer test
and make ya pee in a cup for a drug test
and draw some of yer blood to test for HIV
and scrape the inside of yer mouth out to collect DNA
and they're just about to start a full cavity search
when the cop who pulled you over walks up
and says "did anyone read you yer rights?"
and I'm like what? you mean I din't have to do all these freekin tests?
and he says "well of course ya has to take all these tests
but ya has the right to remain silent"...

after about an hour
they verify that yer a certified licensed cremains courier
which explains the whole living-impaired guy in a box thing
and by now they've inflicted so much roadside humiliation
they has forgotten you were speeding
(you might want to use this tactic sometime to beat a ticket)
but still, they writes you a citation
for failin to have yer official
courier cremains picture-ID license
prominently displayed
cause by law ya when yer on duty
ya has to have one of those
strap-on light-up signs
you see on cars deliverin pizza
but yer sign lights up yer picture
with yer name and
'Licensed Cremains Courier'
underneath...

dude, you don't wanna pick up a chick
to take to the fireworks
with somethin like that on yer car...

and she's all "yer late"
so yer tellin her about the whole cops episode
cept ya leave out the part about the cremains
and she says "well the fireworks are prolly over by now"
but you look at her and chuckle
sayin "oh, there can't be no fireworks without us"
and she's all "awwww - that's so sweet"
and yer like "don't shake the box, k?"...

then ya gets to the beach
and everyone's millin about complainin loudly
about the two hour delay in the pyreworks
so she's like "oh I guess we aren't late!"
and pointin to her lap aks
"what's in this box?"...

just then these Chinesian guys run over
snatch the box holdin
Mr. Dusty Grits' cremains
and run off with it
so ya act like ya can't hear her aksin about all this
as you jump out the car
to get the six-pack outta the trunk
and when you get back in she says
"this is nice. the car is parked
facing the beach and we can see the
fireworks right from here"...

the funeral hasn't started yet
so yer makin out with her
and now it's all hot and heavy
and she's on her knees in her seat
kissin down on you whilst ya try to figure out
how the hell you get this dayam bra off
when she stops and says
"hey, what's this in the back seat?
It looks like one of those light-up signs
ya sees strapped on top of pizza delivery vehicles"...

but just then the fireworks start
and it's a great show
and since it's dark
and everyone's busy watchin the firewerks
no one will know
if you and her go all the way
right here in the car
besides
no one can see in the car
cause the windshielt's gettin all covered with ashes...

so you go to make yer move
and just as she's startin to take off her pullover sweater
she looks down and says
"you never did tell me
what is that in the back seat?"...

well ya can't tell her she's makin out with you
whilst Mr. Bernie T. Toast
the guy what was in the box
she had on her lap drivin over here
is up there meetin the jet stream
so ya tells her you that you works for Pizza Hut
but yer gonna be a manager soon
and so you won't be deliverin boxes after that...

so then comes the grand finale
and yer peepin out the window at the fireworks
when yer sposed to have yer eyes closed
whilst doin that tongue thing they like to do
when somethin hard
lands on the windshield
lookin all the world like a finger bone
so ya hit the wipers....

and then the show's over
and the two of you are sittin in yer car in the dark
and she's politely aksin you how the tips are
and after about 5 minutes of pizza shoptalk
she aks you to take her home
cause she has to wash her hair
and yer thinking dayam,
I came back from the dead for this?
I coulda been a dayam ghost or some shit
hidin out in the wimmin's
changin booths at Walmars by day
incubustin babes all night long
but no, I has to be
a freekin Licensed Cremains Courier
and get a light-up sign
to strap to the roof of my car...

so to hell with all that
after I die I'm just gonna be a ghost
and no one will be able to see me
unless they spray me with a fire extinguisher or some shit like that
and there won't be no breath to analyze
and my pee will just pass through cups
and I won't have no freekin blood to have tested
and DNA will stand for Dead:Not Applicable
and I'll have the freekin right to cremain silent.

see an actual service

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