In my next life, I'd like to come back as the Funk Soul Reindeer. All it does is sit on top of my stereo. Mostly looking at me. Sometimes looking somewhere else. Its head is suspended on a little hook inside its neck, so that its head can bob slightly in the breeze, or a lot when someone gives it a donk on the nose. It has big, liquid brown eyes and a dent in its nose where someone tried to shove its head through a cardboard box. It's going a little threadbare in patches, and it only belongs to me by right of possession, since I nicked it from the rubbish stash after last year's summer cleanout. It's cheap, tacky, almost kitsch, but it doesn't have to do anything but sit on top of my stereo, nod, and occasionally get terrorised by the entirety of the Croquet Club on a cheap Scotch bender.

I could handle a life like that.

("Do you believe in reincarnation?"

"I'm not sure I believe in incarnation."
"What's that supposed to mean?"

"How the fuck should I know? Go away, you're ruining my inscrutable vibe.")