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Odd.

I want to be remembered after I die. To this end, I plan on donating a large sum of money in a high-interest bank account to my local town offices with a few minor stipulations towards its use: the upkeep of the local educational facilities, the maintenance of public parks, and the promotion of travel and tourism for the town. I will pay a law firm to indefinitely oversee this account to make sure my wishes are carried out.

If ever the town fails to comply with my wishes in the eyes of said law firm, I will request that all the money be spent on Iron Maiden t-shirts, which are to be distributed to the inhabitants of third-world nations. This is to ensure that the town carries out my instructions in a satisfactory manner.

I will also require that once the interest on the account accrues to a certain level, a twelve-foot tall, hulking, grotesque stone gargoyle, complete with snarling teeth, bloodshot eyes, and gristly fur be installed in place of my previous gravestone. This gargoyle should be crafted in such a manner as to make adults vaguely uneasy as they pass by, and cause small children to burst into tears. It should be crafted of a substance strong enough to withstand several millennia of weathering.

I will further ask that a yearly ceremony be held at my gravesite, at the stroke of midnight upon the first cloudless night in October (or the last Thursday in October, if all October nights until that point have been cloudy). At such time, every resident of the town shall be required to gather around the gravesite while a dozen town officials, dressed in black, hooded cloaks, set a splendid feast of exotic fruits, expensive meats and freshly-baked breads in front of my gargoyle. When the feast is assembled, a young virgin girl shall be selected from the townspeople and placed within my gargoyle's cavernous stone maw. The town officials will then light huge torches in a circle surrounding my gravesite, and they and the townspeople will disperse. The food will be left for the local wildlife.

My stipulations will require that all young males labeled as "rebellious" or "troublesome" be specially selected for inclusion in an underground cult, the laws and customs of which will be known to only a select few residents of the town, who shall be named and informed upon my death. This cult will worship my gargoyle, keeping it clean and free from destructive ice, plants, or wildlife. They shall perform a weekly ritual at my gravesite, burning handfuls of crushed dried basil and rosemary over a bed of river pebbles, and chanting a deep, frightening yet meaningless quasi-Latin phrase. They shall go to great pains to let no-one see them do this. Their expenses, including housing and food, will be paid from my bank account. Rest assured that the troublesome youths will no longer bother anyone once they have been inducted into my cult.

Five-hundred years after my death, a stonesmith will be hired to break apart my gargoyle (with great pomp and circumstance). Inside, the townspeople will find absolutely nothing, but they will be curious, and will spend a long time sifting through the rubble. Eventually, they will leave, discouraged. At this point, I request that most, but not all, of the remaining funds in my bank account be donated to a medical research charity. The last few dollars in the account will be used to buy cardboard party-hats and 3-D glasses, which will be distributed to the townspeople (and people in neighboring towns, if the hats are in excess).

The young virgin girl will be able to climb out of the gargoyle's maw and go home after the ceremony, if she so chooses.

Note: I wrote this several years ago and just stumbled across it on my hard drive. I am posting it here for your... er, enjoyment?

Comments

( 6 comments — Leave a comment )
mangofandango
Jun. 2nd, 2003 11:27 am (UTC)
I remember this. But I also remember you telling me that when you die, you would like to be tossed into some bushes rather than buried. What to do, what to do? :)
aussie_nyc
Jun. 2nd, 2003 12:25 pm (UTC)
It's this sort of creativity that is lacking in the world of tabloid journalism. The National Enquirer needs you, Ryan.
okb
Jun. 2nd, 2003 12:35 pm (UTC)
So help me, I'm going to hold you to this.

Hooray!
fourcoffees
Jun. 2nd, 2003 12:46 pm (UTC)
AND WHAT EXACTLY IS WRONG WITH IRON MAIDEN???
lifesnotasong
Sep. 28th, 2003 09:43 pm (UTC)
llooll.... I just randomly found your LJ, but this is the best entry I've ever read. Thank you!!!
rfreebern
Sep. 29th, 2003 06:58 am (UTC)
I'm glad you like it! :)
( 6 comments — Leave a comment )

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