what do you pack for the afterlife?

For starsong, who gave me the prompt 'scarab beetle'.

My girlfriend woke up yesterday convinced that she was the reincarnation of Cleopatra. She went out and got a scarab beetle tattooed just above the crack of her ass, bought a cat, and started playing the Bangles on repeat over and over again.

(I'm trying to tell her that mid-eighties girl bands don't have a damn thing to do with Ancient Egypt, but she's not listening.)

She keeps sorting through all of her stuff, tyring to figure out what to put in her tomb.

(I'm trying to tell her she's only twenty-seven and isn't likely to die yet, but she's not listening.)

So I just sit here and roll my eyes and try to be noncommittal whenever she asks me some crazy-ass question about whether or not she'll need this or that pair of earrings in the afterlife, or whether or not Coach bags will still be in fashion. How the hell should I know? The things are ass-ugly anyway, I want to say, but I don't.

The cat's shredding up my leg with its tiny claws. I pick it up by the scruff of the neck to give it a good scolding and get bitched out: cats are gods, she said. You can't be mean to them.

I don't care, I reply. The little brat was letting blood, for fuck's sake. I put the cat aside and it goes to attack one of my sneakers.

She starts looking online for a place to order a sarcophagus, and I sigh.

It'll pass. It was better than last week where she thought she was Eva Braun. Those human-skin lampshades and the white power music were just creepy.

twits

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