I Can Still Fit In My High School Casket

"You would be just as married without a big fancy wedding," we are told.  But the thing we're never told — the thing no one ever says — is, "That dead guy over there will be just as dead without a fancy casket." 

We don't buy the fancy caskets for the dead guy, do we?  Nope, we buy them for ourselves.  We want something pretty to look at during the funeral, and, I suppose, we want to feel better about dumping a loved one into a hole the ground.  But really, does all that shiny wood, shiny brass, and silky padding do anything for the dead guy? 

Of course not.  He's dead.  He's like, "Hey dudes, I'm dead.  Save your money."  And then he's all like, "You could use that money for a better cause, you know.  Like feeding hungry children or something.”  And then he’s like, “Dude!  You could rent a giant catapult!  And shoot me to Mexico!  Yeah, Mexico!  That's right, I'm dead, I'll say it:  Mexico has NO ROOM to complain about a couple of illegally-thrown dead guys!"

So last weekend, to save my family from the temptation of the fancy casket, I built my very own death box.  I took two sheets of plywood, a saw, a hammer and nails and built a simple, sturdy little rectangle to hold my future corpse.  (For a while I considered creating the semi-diamond shape seen in old westerns, but those mitre cuts really complicate things, and, come on, I didn't have all day.)

Much to my surprise, having a casket around the house is already providing advantages.  First of all, it’s a fantastic place to store my larger tools in the garage.  While it’s odd, at first, to say things like, "Hey Jackson, can you go grab the big level out of Daddy's casket?" I think we're getting used to it. 

But the other, bigger, advantage is that I made the casket fairly narrow.  How is this advantageous?  Well, think about it: How embarrassing would it be to not fit into your own casket?  Consider: People are constantly wiping their butts and changing underwear because they worry about being caught dead with skid marks.  But that's trivial compared with my concern.  Every single day now, I worry about growing too fat to fit in my own casket.  I look in the mirror and wonder, “Will they have to lop off my arms to fit me in?”  Talk about motivation to exercise. 

What’s weird though is that, now that I’ve actually built a casket, I keep having daydreams about starting a casket rental company.  My only investment would be a single, ornate casket, and maybe a roll of that magic protective paper doctors use on their examining tables.  I would rent my casket to the families of dead guys who would use it for the funeral and burial services.  Then, when no one was looking, I would toss the dead guy in a hole, along with the magic paper, and rush the casket back to my office.

But I digress.  My point here is that I believe, quite firmly, we should treat cheap caskets as badges of honor.  We should demand them for ourselves and for our loved ones.  We should nudge each other at funerals while nodding knowingly, with pride, towards the $30 pine box at the front.  We should send widows caring winks that say, "Thank you for using your money for a more noble cause." 

And we should totally try to hook up with widows who wink back, "Giant catapult."