Death, But Not Without Honor

Death, yes. We all shall dine at that table.
But not without Honor! Whether Honor be served
as a dish, or served as a guest, if Death
invite me to dine without Honor present,
in some form - preferably, in a place of Honor,
I will furiously decline, with apoplectic spittle
zinging from beneath my curiously accurate
British Indian Colonial mustache - which I
intend to grow, in anticipation of the event.

Death! Proud be ye, and rightly so, despite
what some have said - yet Death, without Honor
ye are but some ghastly stick with which to
frighten children. A far cry from the lordly
destiny of kings and warriors, a pale shadow
of what we know of Death, of what we know
Death to be. So what will it be, Death?
How about a little Honor, then? That
would make it go easier
for each of us.