"After Formosus had been buried for about nine months, Pope Stephen gathered
together some of the Roman clergy into a synod and had his rotting corpse
exhumed and carried into the hall. Clothed in full pontifical vestments, the
body was seated in a chair while a terrified deacon stood by the corpse as
defence attorney and a series of charges against the late pope was
The Mammoth Book of Tasteless Lists, Karl Shaw
Deep down, everyone who makes unfavourable decisions or voices unpopular thoughts should have a fear of being exhumed and being brought to justice, post mortem, like the "Cadaver Synod" of circa 896 A.D. Decisions that are made today may affect the world for the worse and all it takes is for one mentally unstable pontiff to hold a court hearing with your decomposing carcass to make some sort of a point. At least, that's what granddad used to tell me every night before I went to bed.
Many, many sleepless nights later, as I write this, I think of all the 'wrong things' that may result in a desecrated grave and my unearthed body, clad in a cheap, mouldy suit being represented by a geek. In the labyrinthine recesses of my mind, I can think of a few.
Apart from the snide, day-to-day insults...
1) New Year's Eve 2002-3. The Bat girl Incident. One formerly trusting employee at the bar asked if we could have a dress up New Year's party. I said yes. Having informed everyone else to keep up the pretence of holding one of these 'Super Hero'-themed nights we sat back and giggled as she went to and fro looking for something to wear. Little did we know she would actually go to a costume hire place and rent out a Bat girl suit for something like $80 bucks.
2) Egg Duel. I once challenged a friend (well, Datsun) to a duel after he placed my name on a speed-dating thing for bored secretaries. A dozen eggs at ten paces. Although it wasn't a traditional duel in the sense that it wasn't held at dawn, he didn't bring a 'second' and nobody died, it was an honourable affair. My head was sore because Micah, my second, was under strict instructions to hit me with a spatula for every egg I threw and missed. So after eleven spatula beatings I was in a foul mood. The next time Datsun and I 'duelled' I pelted him one or two paces out of the starting block.
3) Nudity in a public place. Specifically on a moving train. Scarred the lives of all those in my carriage...and the carriage next to mine.
There's been a few others. Random beatings, stealing, aggravated loitering, vomiting mid-sentence, non-payment of Telstra bills. But I think we all do these things. It's a sign that we have spent time on this planet, that we were alive for these few short years. So what if our maggot-ridden carcases may one day be in the defendant's chair? Maybe it's not a bad thing. Maybe it means we're doing something right.
Testing the patience of others,