I visited my tomb today. I like it there.  There’s a big tree out front, I’m told it’s a poplar. Whatever it is, it’s the only tree in that portion of the graveyard, and its right beside my tomb, so that’s pretty cool.  I’ll be the envy of all my neighbors. They might not say much anymore, but I can tell they’re impressed.

My mausoleum (technically I guess it’s still a cenotaph at this point) is granite, a simple cube structure with a slightly pitched roof. No windows, one door of heavy wrought iron. It’s going to be cold in the winter. I thought about doing marble, but for long term durability nothing beats granite, and let’s face it, once I move in my occupation is going to be very long term. What the interior lacks in creature comforts, it more than makes up for in peaceful dimness. I’m glad I bought it.

My girlfriend thinks I’m crazy. “You’re crazy,” she says, “what do you need a tomb for, you’re not dying. You’re only twenty-five years old!”

Exactly. Do you know what mausoleums cost? It’s a big investment. I feel sorry for the poor suckers who never even get to see their grave before they are interred in it. What kind of return is that? By doing it my way, I now have years of tomb-based pleasure to look forward to. The kids want to spend a night or two camping out? Send them to the tomb. All the closets at home are getting filled with clutter? Jam it in the tomb. Need a place to host late night strip-poker games? You guessed it, the tomb.

All these are pale diversions compared to my all time favorite tomb-game however. This one is best done with friends. It’s even better if one of your friends happens to be a Hollywood horror movie make-up artist. If one of your friends isn’t a Hollywood horror movie make-up artist, get new friends. Yours stink.

Okay. So. Here’s how the game works. You get your friends together, the morgue the merrier (see what I did there?), and under the cover of darkness you jam them into your
mausoleum. Really pack them in there, like a 60’s phone booth, or a VW bug. Then, you wait quietly. You’re in a graveyard remember, show some respect.

Once the sun comes up, the burial services begin. If you can, do it Wednesday morning,
those are the busiest burial days, but Thursdays are okay too. Either way, hopefully it’s a crowded day because when you finally all come boiling out of that crypt like termites from a mound, you are going to create total pandemonium. You’re going to be stiff and sore from being packed in a small stone room all night, you might even moan and drool a little in your agony, but that’s all part of the magic. You’ve probably figured out what the make-up artist was for by now. You’re exactly right. You’re all dressed like zombies. Brilliant!

“Dear friends, we are gathered here today for the tragic purpose of laying to rest our beloved great aunt Mirna, may she rest in peace, ashes to ashes, dust to dust and OHMYGODZOMBIES! EVERYBODY RUN FOR YOUR LIVES!!! LEAVE THE CHILDREN BEHIND; THEY’LL ONLY SLOW YOU DOWN!”

People are running everywhere, they are screaming and crying, uncle Fester has fallen into the grave and broken his hip, and it is the single most glorious thing you have ever seen, and it’s all possible because you, like me, have made the excellent decision to buy your tomb ahead of schedule.

I hear the DOW and the NASDAQ are down again. Sucks for you. My investment is still paying dividends straight into the fun bank, and will be until the day I die. Then it will get really useful.