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: Back in the heavy stoned days, when we used to stay up and talk a lot, Annie and me, we were talking about dying, how it feels and all. I said I'd never get buried. I couldn't stand them shoveling dirt in my face. Like, I know I'd be dead, but I still might have this strong compulsion to breathe, okay? But Annie, she said she wanted to be buried right in the ground under a pear tree. Really. Not in a box or anything. She said she wanted the roots going right through her, and each year, we'd come along, take a pear, and go "Hey, Annie's tasting good this year, huh?"