My sister via text while I was in my tower on a hot, hot day.
me: I brain dead roasted
sister: perfect. I can’t imagine…its grossly hot. and you’re slowly cooking yourself like a super slow microwave.
me: Like the fun cooker
sister: ewww. so you’re probably internally aging like an astronaut…
me: is that what happens up there…in…space?
sister: yes…they age so quickly…like crazy…that’s why they have to exercise for two to three hours every day up there…
me: I don’t want to go up there then.
sister: I do…when I’m dead…shot into space to disintegrate
me: would u disintegrate before u cleared the atmosphere? Then bits of you would rain down. That would be nice.
sister: Yes, wouldn’t it?
me: I want one of my turds petrified & then shot into space.
sister: Hac! How about some bloody tampons?
me: but the rest of me buried. No coffin. Shallow grave. I want bugs & beasts to have their fill. EXCELLENT IDEA!!(re:tampons) I’ll start saving them now!
sister: ahhh, don’t you dare blog this.
me: and I want them glued together in a likeness of me.
sister: like a lady gaga meat dress?
me: more like a statue of me.
sister: that’s it. I’m stopping sending you ideas.