Never Get My Lincoln

I'll probably never get my Lincoln.

So here's what you do. When I die, take up a collection - buy me a Lincoln. Not a new one, for Christ sake - that would be stupid. Whatever you can afford with the money you collect, buy something that makes sense.

You can drive it right onto the lawn next to my house. The left side, if you are facing my house. Just drive it right on up there, and park it right in the middle between my house and the Farquahr's house. Equidistant. That's a cool word, don't you think? Park that sucker equidistant between my house and theirs.

Drag my body out of the house and, while you're at it, treat me whatever way you think I deserve. Kick me, slap me, piss on me. Kiss me, caress me, hug me. Smile, frown, laugh, cry.

Haul me right up into my precious Lincoln. Driver's seat. Sit me up behind the wheel. You might want to strap my hands to the wheel - I won't be too cooperative at that point.

Empty a 2 and 1/2 gallon can of gasoline into the back seat. Say a few words, or not, depending on the mood and the schedule of the crowd - they might have errands to run.

Drop a match and watch me and my Lincoln burn.

Don't worry about the raging flames encroaching (another good word) on the Farquahr's house - their life sucks anyway, they could use a solid insurance check.

When you are satisfied, go about your business.

And thanks.