Paradis Perdu Frapin 2013

I have always known that I was something sublime in a past life. And now it’s official: I feel like an Egyptian princess with this scent! After her death. In the embalming process.

A nerdy corpse like me knows, of course, that the first documented strike in human history is taking place right here and now - 1159 BCE among the tomb builders in Deir el-Medina. Now I’m just lying here waiting for my access to paradise. (Who invented it? The Egyptians!)

The brain extraction didn’t quite work out - I’m still aware of way too much: I can tolerate the lemon grove, but when it comes to basil and ravensara, I was actually thinking of priest names, and now I’m being smeared with them and smell like an herbal pharmacy.
Outside there’s a hell of a commotion: some grain deliveries haven’t arrived. That’s right, I can smell it: no hay, instead an open grave and ... earth. It can’t be, where’s the earth, this is the desert end of the sausage?!
These rags of tomb workers simply refuse to continue until they are paid, and because of that, I won’t make it to the burial chamber on time. There’s only one thing left to do before I decompose and have to represent in an unappetizing state in the afterlife: Bitumen!! I’ll get a good coating of that and smell like a German highway construction site in midsummer, just in time for the start of vacation.
The dear soul hasn’t found peace yet, but my earthly shell can wait for the ruckus outside to be preserved for now. It should actually smell like fine linen cloths according to all the rules of embalming, but: no chance. The heat makes itself known with a hint of musk. I’m just rotting away, and after two hours, the spectacle is over.
That’s it for my paradise - lost! Finally, a scent that doesn’t promise too much.