At our school they made a ridiculous play. About a teenaged driver who had too much beer. He ingested too much drink, and couldn't steer. He and his friends died on his sixteenth birthday. I didn't really care for the performance anyway. It was just a miserable lecture we had to hear. The only redemption was the coffin in which the boy lay.
After the play concluded the coffin was no longer used. It was papier mache, and artfully crafted to boot. I had my eye on that sarcophagus, it couldn't be beat. So I told the art instructor I could put it to good use. They let me take home the coffin from the fake accident. Now I have a coffin in my room where occasionally I sleep.
[Valwen] · Sun May 15, 2005 @ 08:27am · 3 Comments |