St Michael the Archangel Cemetery

Pourin’ one out for the homies.
More than a few of my peeps reside here and who knows? If I go by a death that leaves my physical body behind, I might someday be here too… though this kind of only my Plan-​B as far as resting places go.
That’s not to say it isn’t Plan A-​worthy, because it is, I’d just like to do something a little different if possible… though it probably won’t happen because I’ll likely be leaving behind nothing but debt and would be lucky if someone lets me bum a paperbag at the end of my story, but just in case it’s possible, my wishes are as follows:
** I’d like for my remains to be flown to Antarctica and air dropped down to a family of starving polar bears to eat, BUT, don’t just drop my body willy nilly. Def get a rope of something and lower it slowly as if you were playing that fishing game with the mini plastic poles from when you were a kid (this one:
). Let there be some dangle action in there so the bear’s interest is piqued, then release me from the rope or hook or whatever, and let ‘em have at my lifeless body. BUT, I don’t want to be naked, because frankly, that’s perv-​y of the bears and the drop team and I just prefer to get through life and death with as few people as possible seeing me naked, SO… the official plan is to wrap my body in a lunch meat bikini, preferably Carl Buddig brand, because that was my favorite food as a child. Turkey flavor, if possible, and not that gross honey kind. Yuck. I’m a lunch meat purist. The end. ***
I would imagine this new-​age viking funeral would cost a pretty penny, so if it’s absolutely out of the question, and my death isn’t from spontaneous combustion, I guess I’ll be buried here with the rest of my fam… in Section 8 of the cemetery plots… because even in death, us G’s are pretty broke. Just kidding… we do alright. Nothing fancy. No need to get showy about it. You can’t take it with you. But seriously, we’re all located in Section 8 ‘housing’ here.
The grounds are pretty much immaculate, and while not enormous, it’s a decent enough sized cemetery. There’s not really any housing around here and it’s a pretty quiet area, near a golf course and a community college that’s not at all a convenient walk from, so it doesn’t get much foot traffic from folks who don’t belong. My family and I, we’re not big on funerals and stuff for the most part. We’re a God-​less people and once ‘it’ happens we deal with it and then shut up about it. Or at least that’s my method, and my Dad’s, and pretty much that whole side of the family.
My other side of the family, who are also in this cemetery, are a little different. They do it up with flags, and whirligigs, and flowers, and angel statues, and figurines, and all this crazy crap on the headstones and surrounding area. I don’t know why, I don’t understand it… maybe putting all that crap out makes it seem less lonely for the person who’s buried underneath, or to remind themselves that the person isn’t forgotten, but I just have to put this out there in case anyone in my family is reading this: PLEASE DON’T PUT SH*T ON MY GRAVE. I want it clean, clear– hell, I don’t even need a headstone. Just dig a hole, toss me in there, no casket needed (though legally I think you do have to have one), let the bugs eat me and don’t put any crap out there. I was a hoarder in life, don’t make me one in death.
The staff here, in what little interaction I’ve had, were pretty cool. I’m kinda into undertakers and at one point I wanted to be a medical examiner, or just work with lifeless human bodies, but that path didn’t pan out, plus my default in awkward or quiet situations is to make jokes and that’s just not something you can do in that line of work, so I ended up doing the next best thing… which is writing about it on Unilocal,apparently.