Welcome to Post-Mortem! Where we put the 'Fun' back in 'Funeral', before we blow it all up!Sometimes simplicity is the best medicine for all that ails, and what ails us today is death.
Simplicity, and Speedpunk.
My husk, dried and stiff like a stick of some sort of tofu jerkey, stands erect - feet nailed to the surface - surrounded by two hundred speakers all pointed at me. I'm not talking about no puss stereo speakers. I'm talking Back the Future, Marty McFly blasting amps. If they aren't pugged into a nuclear reactor, they just aren't strong enough.
The creaky, rusty and misangled metal folding chairs face a black wooden stage in the middle of a parking lot somewhere on the highway. Out comes the speed punk band. They introduce themselves in a language that you were sure was English, if only for a second and begin to play one of their very original songs.
The speakers, pumped up to frickin' eleven would then vibrate every atom of my unbeing until they simply shake apart and disperse into the air where they would be breathed in by the (funeral/concert) goers.
That or I would be transported to another dimension where my talents would be finally recognized.
Either way, then the party starts!
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