HomelessInLaJolla's Journal: 140509 (La Jolla, CA, 92037, war v8.003)

War in La Jolla, eighth year, third entry

The history of the world according to the morticians. They do exist. They have a job. Do you fit on their calendar, their appointment schedule, do you meet the qualifications? They don't really care if you kill somebody, but, please, do arrange an appointment with them ahead of time that the event does not turn into a fiasco with the police, fire department, and, if a shallow grave were involved, maybe the clergy after a few weeks. In the decision between entering you on the morticians' calendar, or me, you are a far more qualified applicant. I yet retain the use of my frontal lobes and improve daily.

http://mapfortu.wikidot.com/

In the beginning no morticians were really necessary. Humans began pressing the trees down some, sometimes people were rolled into dogs, sometimes they fell asleep and got sacked by dogs and phairies working together. Noah's ark somewhat describes the progression of chasing all of the true wild animals down (real life have feathers), and the establishment of the polymorph carnival (fur is for polymorphs) afterwards. Drunks chasing animals (or polymorphs) often met tree limbs, especially after the trees were pressed down far enough that the great grand wizard Mel with his air force began stirring up air currents ("trying to force a path out through the floodgates, at least we made some leaves fall", etc.). That's good enough to get sacked to the phairie kingdoms down below, long before the phairie witch kings built castles and such. Humans flip inside out, make ladies, ladies make gumbies (see Biblical Scriptural Macabre), gumbies grow up and, if good enough, flip inside out. Humans press the trees down enough to press enough paper, fold enough paper, twist enough paper, make baskets, press baskets, make sack cloth, fold cloth, twist cloth, make thread, etc.

The bugs in the basement begin putting together the devil with the blue dress on. Humans getting sacked from being drunk and chasing wildlife, or being stupid and getting sacked, or from the humans playing games counting one down to power saving sleep, or the evolving revolver from the sewing machine working on the linen factory line, eventually used to line up and knock down choirs of angels at a time, they go to hell with some fabric on (getting colder with the trees so low and the wind currents so high), and the bugs putting together bait models for the humans send 'em up wearing the blue dresses (tassles on blankets thin enough to see the sky through). The mortician arrives around Seth's time, if he's gonna beg off the carrot stick and get knocked out at the castle gates of the witch king's fortress then go over and pick up the thread off of his body. Give an idea of the amount of work and time involved in going from Noah's ark to carrot stick fortresses.

Soon it becomes known that there's no way to stay out of hell. Especially with the men of Ninevah wearing out and no more inside out thunderclaps happening for so long. Lots of gumbies in the world to grow up along the way, live thousands of years, break down like all the other idiots. Hang out in the juice pits, get drunk, get stuck on the walkaround routes that they don't care about for a plate and some coin, get caught up in the rowing navy (eunuch's away... window dressing... row-bots with three hands now made, not only by the bugs teaching the technology to the modelling crews inside the walls, but by the modelling crews inside the walls, too!), or recruited into a giant "monastery" of monks living a choreographed religious life managing a model. The only new "ones" are now from the model steam press process, and they are a relic of the accounting department inside, and they show up without wings and brains capped down to runtling, designed to be used as throwaway servants and never have a voting voice to challenge the real "ones".

Morticians develop processes. Count you into stasis, old method, requires money, less and less effective as the history goes on, eventually mummy-making is no longer a full in place process but requires separation and individual consideration and treatment (the pirate party). Maybe press them into bricks... they don't run near that fast and dry any more. Maybe poke them into soap, an entire world of wax candle warehouses already. Dogs, horses, cameols, fish (power arm and a hamster wheel), birds (origami)...

All of Noah's ark and reanimated.

Nope, only option left is ship 'em to hell.