Today at lunch, I asked a friend if he would eat my body, if I specifically asked for it in my will. "Would you be raw?" he asked. "No," I said, "you could cook me." "Hmm," he said. "Could I use sauces? A marinade? Could I bury you in a pit with hot coals and slow-cook you? Are you well-marbled? Give me your arm." Now I am hiding out in a conference room and he is probably waiting in my office with a knife and fork.