I suppose we all have the same dream: a hundred years from now, a man carrying a lantern enters a darkened tomb. He’s already nervous, and he hears something behind him. He turns and holds up the lantern. It’s a hideous skeleton! Speechless with fear, he stumbles backward. He trips, dropping the lantern. The oil spills and catches him on fire. A flailing fire-ball, he runs from the tomb, into the night.

You may be asking, Why do they still have oil lanterns a hundred years from now? Look, I think you’re missing the point. The point is, after you die, you want to have a scary skeleton. You don’t want to be discovered by a grave robber or an archaeologist or a jogger and have the guy shrug and go, “Well, here’s another one.”

Why a scary skeleton? First of all, because it’s scary. It scares people. If a skeleton’s not scary, what’s the point of even having one? Also, scariness can actually protect your skeleton. Something like half of all skeletons are eventually dug up and sold. Some go to medical schools, or are taken apart and used as musical instruments. Even worse, many end up in teenagers’ bedrooms, where they are propped up in chairs with funny hats, “smoking” a cigarette. Remember: a scary skeleton is a safe skeleton.

But scary skeletons don’t just pop out of the ground. Or if they do, a lot of planning was involved. Some people make the mistake of thinking that just because they’re hideous in life, their skeletons will be hideous. Unfortunately, that’s a myth. There are no easy skeletons.

Probably the most obvious way to make your skeleton scarier is to gradually distort your bones into grotesque shapes while you’re still alive, using a series of heavy vises and clamps. But this is not as easy as it sounds; you may just wind up with an expensive set of clamps. The truth is, the time to consider this method is probably when you’re young and your bones are pliable. But most people don’t even think about their skeletons then. They’re too busy going, “Oh, let’s play hide-and-seek” or “Oh, where’s my dolly?”

An easier, more practical alternative might be to have your eyeballs injected with some sort of preservative after you’re dead. That way, your skeleton will have intact eyeballs, which is very scary.

You may be wondering if some sort of insect larvae could be injected in your eyes, so worms or whatever could wiggle out. I think maybe you’re overthinking it. The odds of that happening at the exact right moment are almost nil.

To me, the best ideas are simple. This guy I met in a bar said to just bury the body with a knife in its hand. A skeleton holding up a knife is pretty scary. But wouldn’t the knife just fall out of the guy’s hand? said this other guy in the bar. Not, said the bartender, if you secured the knife to the hand with some bolts and wing nuts. Simple, clean, scary. And it leads to other ideas: Could there be some sort of spring mechanism so that when the coffin lid is opened, the skeleton actually makes a stabbing motion? And what would the warranty be on such a mechanism? These are all questions best discussed with a qualified funeral director.

It will probably take Congress to deal with some issues, such as if a skeleton should be allowed to have a loaded gun. On the one hand, an armed skeleton is scary, no doubt. But what if a dog digs up your skeleton? Even if the dog doesn’t get shot, it could drag the skeleton around as it fires randomly in all directions. And no one wants to see that.

I wish there were some magic formula for producing a scary skeleton. A lot of times it comes down to common sense. A terrifying skeleton that instantly crumbles into dust, and then the dust is blown away by a special fan that runs on solar power, might sound good on paper. But in the end, a few nails pounded into your skull at the right angles might be more effective.

The main thing is, try to avoid clichés. You can have your teeth sharpened and let your fingernails grow long, but really, is that the best you can come up with? Here’s an easy test: Ask yourself what you find scary in a skeleton. Or ask your kids or your grandkids. Then “build” on that.

I can’t reveal what I’ve decided for my skeleton, because that might hurt the scariness. All I can tell you is that if you plan on opening my coffin, you’d better bring one of those heart-reviver machines. And I guess bring a blind guy, too, to operate the heart reviver.

(AUTHOR’S NOTE: Maybe they have oil lanterns a hundred years from now because there was a nuclear war or something, and electricity became extinct.)