When I die...

When I die, I want my skin turned to leather and used to bind my memoir. I want my internal organs hidden somewhere in the house of whoever is the most infamous homophobe/transphobe/biphobe/racist/sexist of the day, so they have to spend thousands of dollars finding the source of the stench and getting it cleaned. I want all my blood thrown all over some self-righteous vegan asshole. I want my muscles ground into hamburger and consumed by the guests at my funeral. I want my bones made into jewelry, knife handles, etc. And I want my skull dyed red, given an awesome set of curly horns, and used as a prop in Satanic black masses.