The Terrible Oyster Gun

…WTF?

 

Sasha Explains It All

News Of My Death Will Be Greatly Exaggerated

Death. It happens to all of us. Happens to ecosystems, both local and global. Happens to planets, stars, galaxies and some folks believe, the universe itself.

You are gonna die. Everybody you know is gonna die. We are ALL going to die.

The trick, of course, is putting it off as long as you possibly can. Now, we’ll limit this discussion to we Terran lifeforms, because that’s who you folks know and besides, once you get into other lifeforms on other worlds, life and death become kind of subjective.

So anyway, this rant is about me dying. No, I’m okay. Healthy as a bitch can be, in fact. I am, however, almost 8 years old and that could well be half or more of my lifespan, so my thoughts do turn toward eventual old age and shuffling off this mortal coil. It’s a common thing among true sentients.

So, for all of you who just thought “Well, Sasha old girl, you’ve still got lots of years left before your turn in the checkout line”, I say “Yo, motherfuckers, I’d be a pretty piss poor Mad Scientist if I couldn’t conquer death, now wouldn’t I?”

I mean, dude, I put my dying sister’s katra (well, OK, about 80% of it) into a fucking indestructible robotic body and now she’s running all over the galaxy in CatEarth 6 and, barring some really gynormous all out assault by a couple of really up on their destructive shit space fleets or maybe a run in with a supermassive black hole, Lulu will be raising hell for a minimum of 7,500 years.

And then there was the time that I created a living man out of dead body parts using old school 1818 mad science straight out of Victor Frankenstein’s own book! Mr. Perkins is doing just fine, thank you very much, and his scars have all faded. He’ll be driving that RV of his around for another hundred years or more.

Let’s not forget that I have also built android bodies for my sibs and non-human friends to use. Okay, so those bodies were kits, but still, I tricked ’em out in my shop.

And finally, you are talking to the Queen Mad Scientist Bitch when it comes to genetic manipulation. If you don’t believe me, just ask my ottopus…or my flying monkeys…or my assorted dinosaurs…or my altered pig lab assistants.

So no, despite the fact that one day Mom & Dad and whatever siblings I have will lay my lifeless body to rest somewhere, I will not be dead. Body dead? Yes. Sasha Jane Cross, PhD (X3) dead? Nope.

I’ll be in a cloned dog body or an android body or maybe some other species or, more likely, I’ll be walking around in a human body with a few genetic upgrades. But I will go on. And on. And on.

Will I want to live a million years? Doubtful. Will I live a few centuries? Count on it.

So when the day comes that Daddy & Mom announce my death, feel free to cry over the passing of the sweetest and smartest and most lovable dog you ever knew. But don’t EVEN think the world has seen the last of me.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s