Dear Solicitious,
I remember fondly your fawning and groveling when we last met. It was with the utmost glee I spent time with you and all those whose adoration rained down upon me. I am exceedingly grateful for this opportunity to share with you my hope, my dream and instruction on building the final homage to me when finally and sadly, I depart this world. I do not need to tell you of the opulence required to house my remains.
First the location: I have chosen an area that will be a beacon for all those that view my House of Rest. As you emerge from the Great City of Manhattan into the land of Queens (how appropriate!) you will be on a thoroughfare that will take you from the Elitist Privileged through the dark of the the middle class to the Grandiose playground of the Fabulously Beautiful and Rich. It is on this road that all travel including the meek as well as the powerful. The road itself is dotted with large tasteless and obscenely flashing billboards. They only serve to promote product to those without hope. How pitiful and misguided these fools are to think a mere billboard will satisfy the desires of the masses. Oh, Solicitious, how I suffer in this regard. How best to benefit the downtrodden than the sight of my resting place? Give them a monument to me, and my impressive life. It can only serve to uplift the spirits of those living a dark cankerous life.
Let me continue: the monument should be made of the finest material. To that end, Solicitious, please de-al only with the Grand Stone Master, Christus of Johnson. His skill is world-renowned and his dedication to me is without repute. I would like the lovely onyx that is the altar in one of the Chapels in the Great Cathedral of John the Divine. It is of the sweetest material, not black and depressing like the onyx we are familiar with but translucent, catching light in its very being. Imagine this, a translucent, light-catching monument sitting upon a hill. Surely, that vision outweighs any glittery-grotesque billboard. The monument should be two stories high flanked by columns of granite like sentries guarding the Queen, nothing outlandish, after all I am nothing if not humble. My sarcophagus should be made of the most delicate pink marble, veined in gold. Inside please remember to place the pinkest silk on a bed of the softest down. I do not want my body to suffer any sores in rest. At my head, place the lovely portrait done by the great artist, Mirandiest; she has clearly best represented my transcendent beauty. In the tomb, place my favorite gold and silver pieces. My diamonds and all my jewelry should be in the sarcophagus with me. I realize my family may have wanted my treasures to uplift their meaningless life. Let them regularly visit me in my demise and that should assuage their suffering. I must have manservants entombed with me. After all, a woman with my appetites cannot be expected to rest alone! I have chosen two of my favorites to lie in eternity next to me. Wellington Hungus and Dreamius Boaten have been informed of my decision and both seemed overwhelmed with emotion and joy at this honor.
The land upon which the monument will stand rises up above the landscape giving an unobstructed view of me. The grounds are a wondrous array of green grass, trees, a variety of flowers and a habitat for many exotic birds. Tear it up. I have been besieged by allergies all my life and certainly do not want my corpse wheezing in etemius. Nothing should distract from the central focal point, my tomb. Solicitious, do you think I am being too ostentatious? No, how could I!
I think that finishes it. I know the thought of fulfilling this request tears you apart with grief. Though I leave you nothing after death, placing me finally and comfortably to rest cannot be a chore for you, but a joy.
Finally, above the golden door of my tomb place this final dedication:
I remember fondly your fawning and groveling when we last met. It was with the utmost glee I spent time with you and all those whose adoration rained down upon me. I am exceedingly grateful for this opportunity to share with you my hope, my dream and instruction on building the final homage to me when finally and sadly, I depart this world. I do not need to tell you of the opulence required to house my remains.
First the location: I have chosen an area that will be a beacon for all those that view my House of Rest. As you emerge from the Great City of Manhattan into the land of Queens (how appropriate!) you will be on a thoroughfare that will take you from the Elitist Privileged through the dark of the the middle class to the Grandiose playground of the Fabulously Beautiful and Rich. It is on this road that all travel including the meek as well as the powerful. The road itself is dotted with large tasteless and obscenely flashing billboards. They only serve to promote product to those without hope. How pitiful and misguided these fools are to think a mere billboard will satisfy the desires of the masses. Oh, Solicitious, how I suffer in this regard. How best to benefit the downtrodden than the sight of my resting place? Give them a monument to me, and my impressive life. It can only serve to uplift the spirits of those living a dark cankerous life.
Let me continue: the monument should be made of the finest material. To that end, Solicitious, please de-al only with the Grand Stone Master, Christus of Johnson. His skill is world-renowned and his dedication to me is without repute. I would like the lovely onyx that is the altar in one of the Chapels in the Great Cathedral of John the Divine. It is of the sweetest material, not black and depressing like the onyx we are familiar with but translucent, catching light in its very being. Imagine this, a translucent, light-catching monument sitting upon a hill. Surely, that vision outweighs any glittery-grotesque billboard. The monument should be two stories high flanked by columns of granite like sentries guarding the Queen, nothing outlandish, after all I am nothing if not humble. My sarcophagus should be made of the most delicate pink marble, veined in gold. Inside please remember to place the pinkest silk on a bed of the softest down. I do not want my body to suffer any sores in rest. At my head, place the lovely portrait done by the great artist, Mirandiest; she has clearly best represented my transcendent beauty. In the tomb, place my favorite gold and silver pieces. My diamonds and all my jewelry should be in the sarcophagus with me. I realize my family may have wanted my treasures to uplift their meaningless life. Let them regularly visit me in my demise and that should assuage their suffering. I must have manservants entombed with me. After all, a woman with my appetites cannot be expected to rest alone! I have chosen two of my favorites to lie in eternity next to me. Wellington Hungus and Dreamius Boaten have been informed of my decision and both seemed overwhelmed with emotion and joy at this honor.
The land upon which the monument will stand rises up above the landscape giving an unobstructed view of me. The grounds are a wondrous array of green grass, trees, a variety of flowers and a habitat for many exotic birds. Tear it up. I have been besieged by allergies all my life and certainly do not want my corpse wheezing in etemius. Nothing should distract from the central focal point, my tomb. Solicitious, do you think I am being too ostentatious? No, how could I!
I think that finishes it. I know the thought of fulfilling this request tears you apart with grief. Though I leave you nothing after death, placing me finally and comfortably to rest cannot be a chore for you, but a joy.
Finally, above the golden door of my tomb place this final dedication:
“Here Within Lies Sandy -The Grand And Glorious."