'Death pods' churned out on a 3D printer. What could possibly go wrong...
https://www.msn.com/en-gb/news/world/tesla-of-euthanasia-death-capsule-that-kills-occupant-in-seconds-to-be-used-for-first-time/ar-BB1ptFCA?ocid=socialshare&pc=DCTS&cvid=bfbae116b85d4ff29b48208b9791e7f6&ei=27
'Dave and Val have got a new income generation scheme. I'm telling you two because you're in the zone age-wise and you might be interested.' Tuppence emptied the last crumbs of a bag of pickled onion Monster Munch into his mouth and belched loudly. 'Meaning that you're both old.'
'That's not funny Tuppence. As if we hadn't already heard about the holistic wellness self euthanasia care yurt. We won't be getting involved with that, thank you.'
'I'm not surprised. As well as being old you're fat unhealthy and selfish into the bargain. You're breathing air and taking up space a young person could be using. You're eating food of a very unhealthy stripe and not taking any responsibility for yourselves. Your social attitudes are prehistoric and your time on the planet is up. You need to acknowledge that before she comes and gets you.'
'Comes and gets us? I thought it was voluntary?'
'It WAS.... but now Val's got a pair of running shoes, a crossbow, tranquilliser darts and a van with blacked out windows. Government issue. She doesn't need victims sorry guests to pay her because she's getting commission for each over 55 she manages to euthanase, with or without their permission.'
'How absolutely ghastly. Geoffrey, fetch the shotgun. We may need to defend ourselves.'
Next time....Dave's third eye starts to throb and he has a crisis of conscience....
'Dave we've got our first guest in the holistic voluntary self euthanasia care space and I've just realised we've got two big problems. Man up please.'
'You mean the killing yurt.' murmured Dave, who had his back to Val as he replaced the battery in his trail cam.
'Number one - they've got a needle phobia and they don't like tea, you're going to have to inject them Dave because I won't have time, I'm all booked up with hot stoning clients this morning.'
'WHAT? No I'm sorry Val. There's another word for euthanasia, and it's murder. I'm not doing it and neither should you.'
'But they've signed the disclaimer Dave. It's totally fine.'
'What does the disclaimer actually say Val?'
'It says they're over 55, they want to end their earthly journey now, and if anything should go wrong, e.g. coma, paralysis and/or mental incapacity or whatever, they're sane at the point of signing therefore they accept that they're 100% responsible for anything that happens and they won't sue. Plus, I've extended my professional liability insurance that I use for my hot stoning to cover wellness self-euthanasing. We're totally covered Dave. Now get on with it, we don't want a negative review on Trip Advisor. Not that they'll be around to write one but...'
'What's the second problem?'
'Well, you know how I said they paid half up front half on completion?'
'Yes...'
'I just realised that if there is a 'completion', then they'll have ended their earthly journey and won't be able to pay the remainder.'
'How terrible. Well, maybe you should just scrap the whole thing Val and stick to the hot stoning and the ear candling.'
'Perhaps Dave but what do we do with the guest that's already here? They're ready to depart this world and eager for us to assist.'
'Just give them their deposit back Val, and offer them one of my wildlife safaris. I've repaired the holes in the kayak and I can take them round the loch, there's a pair of grebes nesting in the reed beds. We might even see an otter. That's sure to bring back the will to live. OW!
Dave winced as Val smacked him in the third eye with a hot stone.
'I wonder if I can somehow remove my third eye', thought Dave. 'I don't think I can cope with being in a permanent state of enlightenment. I feel I need some Valium or something. Something to bring me down...'
'Dave! What are you doing out there! Get those logs chopped right now, the mobile sauna needs topping up, my hot stones are going cold and I've run out of kindling. And haven't you dug out the composting toilet yet, it smells disgusting. Guests are complaining.'
'OK Val.' Forget about the Valium, thought Dave, pulling on his Wellingtons. And as for the composting toilet - the clue is in the name. It's a composting toilet, therefore, it smells disgusting. You wanted the bloody thing. I tried to warn you but would you listen? No. Because you never listen. There was no point in trying to explain this to Val. There was no point in trying to explain anything to Val.
Later...in Dave and Val's cottage, over some goji berry tea...
'Dave I've got an idea I need to discuss with you. Nettle flapjack?' Val proffered a handwoven willow basket filled with lumpy brown-ish rectangles. 'They're three months old but they're totally fine if you dunk them.'
'No thanks Val. I'm still full after the roadkill soup you made for lunch,' said Dave warily. He only got offered flapjacks if Val wanted him to do something. And it was always something bad.
'That's OK, they were left over from a guest's welcome pack. Why do people never eat them? So ungrateful. They probably expect Twixes or something. Anyway, what I wanted to tell you, I mean ask you...I mean tell you....or discuss or whatever...I'm converting one of the yurts into our own mini Switzerland Dave! I'm getting a grant from the Scottish government, as long as I rewild the back field, fit solar panels and an air-sourced heat pump and ante up three grand. It's going to be a holistic voluntary wellness self euthanasia care space. Where people who fulfil certain important criteria can either indulge themselves by self-euthanasing via an injection of a holistic cocktail of lethal wellness drugs I carefully distill from locally eco-foraged fungi and toxic plants, or ingest it in the form of a pleasant herbal-style tea. Which obviously would take longer to take effect but would be ideal for anyone with a needle phobia. I might even throw in a Toblerone.'
'What are the criteria?'
'Oh, they'd have to be over a certain age. Let's say, 55? Just plucking that out of the air but it sounds about right. And, they'd have to pay a fee, obviously. Half up front, half on completion. I'd take Paypal, cash, debit and credit cards but not Klarna.'
'You've clearly thought this through Val. Leaving the legality of it aside for a minute - how would you - or we - dispose of the - how shall I put it - remains?'
'Bury them in the back field, Dave. The one that I'm rewilding and planting up with yellow rattle and stuff. Where they would compost down into the soil and become a useful part of the ecosystem instead of taking up space on an already overcrowded planet. That's where you come in. You've got a pick and a couple of decent shovels, haven't you?'
'And what if - heaven forbid - someone attempts but fails to 'complete'?'
'No worries at all, they have two options which they pre-select on the disclaimer form prior to arrival. They're either left in a permanent coma-style vegetative state - mentally alert, yet physically completely paralysed, or vice versa, depending on the proportion of specially foraged herbs to fungi used in the solution - or, for an additional fee, finished off, let me put it that way.'
'Finished off? How?'
'Dave you're fully capable of wielding one of my home made crocheted nettle fibre cushions over the vital area.'
'The vital area. You mean the face don't you. Good grief Val. When we got married I knew you were a strong-minded woman but I didn't expect this.'
Next time - Val discloses that her mother is coming to stay for an indefinite period. Dave perks up as he wonders if she might be the first candidate for the holistic voluntary wellness self euthanasia care space...
