the PIT Conversations

It may not sound right to some, but, I would just as soon not take up space in some grass garden, and for my size and situation at the time, I'm thinking that...

I'm thinking that's too much space!
For crying out loud,
the computer, the dog,
my easel and my guitar
don't take up THAT much space, now !
But, if I had my way...
I would drive out into the desert...
 in an old gas guzzling chunk of steel,
(that way getting rid of a bit'o'trash, too!)
like say a 1958 Buick Special...

 only, of course, it would probably look more like this...

but, however getting there,
stumbling out of the car and dying within ten feet of the vehicle
(well timed, wouldn't you say?)

A couple of vultures sitting in a nearby cactus consider what they just saw.
"Fresh meat,"
"Yeah...but, what did he die of?"
"What do you care?"
"THINK! Stupid! He just drove out here and got out and died? Do you want to do the same thing?"

but, therein lies the problem, doesn't it?
How would I know the exact time to drive out there? And I don't want to have to sit there in the car for a few days waiting, either. There is the other idea i favored for so long...
When I die, just get a bunch'a friends to come by and bury me somewhere.
Don't dress up pretty for THIS funeral. Wear jeans and bring a shovel.
 But, not in a casket, steel and fancy wood, pillow (?) and a suit.
A concrete bonnet for the casket.
What a waste!
TOMBSTONE!?

What are these people thinking? Maybe that if they show enough respect for this dead fellow, god will let him into Heaven?
I doubt it.
First off, the Creator inhabits Heaven to this day. We call it Earth, and we can come up with thousands of reasons why it's OK to dirty it all up.
"Oh, no, honey. Heaven is beyond the clouds..."
(yeah...second star to the left and on till morning)
So, my internal conversation is along the lines of, how do I know when I'll die and what can I do with the body to keep the nutcases off of it?

[to be continued]

.

.

.

(probably the next time I get the dark thoughts.
Right now,I'de rather think of my girlfriend, and how I can coax her clothes off)

.

.

.

d=^))

.

.

.