Sean Robin Hughes

“So what do you want to do?” Chuck asked with a smirk, tipping his beer bottle into the corner of his mouth.  I noticed the label finally.  Kours Lite. That sounded familiar… although I didn’t know why.

“I have no idea.  I had hard enough time figuring that out when I was alive.”  I had graduated high school, moved from job to job, starting and stopping community college at least a half dozen times, and I still had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up.  Which was never going to happen now.  “Do I age?”

“More or less.  Aging is different on this side of Prime.  You don’t break down in physical form any longer… since entropy is not in effect with what you are made of, but your mind continues to grow.  Everything is based off of your age in that sense.  Your appearance can change at will.  It is all about self image, really.  You will meet young looking people that have been dead for millennia, and old walking corpses that died at 10 years of age but like the zombie look.  Your mind…” He reached across the table and tapped my forehead. “Your mind continues on.  That is what is holding what makes you together.  I died on Prime at the ripe old age of 79.  I was a real estate agent in my previous life, selling bungalows and revivals to people with way too much money out in a place called Los Angeles.”

“I know it.  Hollywood and all that; horrible airport.”

“Really?  Must have been after I left.  So I show up, ready for my harp and wings, and this crusty old lady meets me when I woke up after transit.  She looked me right in the eye and said, ‘I hope your life was fun, because now its time to get busy.’  It turns out that she was only looking like that to make herself be respected, like a matronly school teacher or a dear aunt.  Honestly, she looked like Mary-fucking-Poppins hit her stride.”

I laughed.  I loved that movie.  Never read the book.

“Yeah, right?  That is what I thought too.  She tells me… the world is bigger than I ever thought.  I thought I was smart when I died.  Like I had it all figured out… I was wrong.  That single notion that I knew that I had a billion other things to learn… that is what enabled me to grow, prosper, and ultimately be sitting here in front of you, your skilled and friendly transition expert.”

“So what do you do?  Do you have a home?  Days off?”

“Yes… kind of.  Its… complicated.  I have a realm that I share with others like me.  I am there right now.  You just don’t get it yet.  That is what maturity brings.  The afterlife is a meritocracy in many ways.  As you mature, and you learn more, and your consciousness expands… your relative worth increases.  It is a badge of sorts… boy scouts or something like that.  At different stages of your personal journey, you will learn new things about the world we live in and that reflects both outwardly and inwardly.  You are a mirror for what you experience in many ways.”

“I don’t understand.” I said sheepishly.

“Yeah, you won’t.  Its one of those things you have to through yourself.  Back to the question.  What do you want to do?”

“I have no idea.  What are my choices?”

“Everything.  Anything.  So you can’t approach the problem from that direction.  What do you like?”

“I like reading.  Love books.  I always wanted to be a writer.  I like acting… it was a reason I was a stage hand.”

“You are impossible, kid.” He smiled. “What else?  Hobbies?”

“Playing video games count?”

“Not really.”  He frowned.  “Like pong?”

“Yeah like pong. A little bit more advanced.  Warfare simulators.  Run and gun.”

Chuck perked up. “We have soldiers.  Always need soldiers.”

“Uh.  No thanks?”

“Hmmm.  Well we will figure it out.  Done?”

“Yes.  Stuffed.”

“Check please!” Chuck said to a passing roach.

“Oh double bullshit.  Money too?”

“Not so much.”  He smiled widely and a roach dropped a gold credit card on the table.  Chuck laid his hand on it and slid it back to the roach.  It hissed loudly.  Chuck responded to the hiss.   “Very good, thank you.”

“Let’s go.”  He jerked his head to the door.

“Wait.  How did you pay?”

“So remember how I said it is a meritocracy?  Your wealth, if you will, is based on your contributions… and you are paid, if you will, to do your job.  This all culminates in you growing.  Think of it like a bucket of sand.  When you do stuff, you get sand added to your bucket.  When you want stuff, you give sand out of your bucket.  You are the bucket.”

“So you paid with yourself?”

“Yes.  I paid the tab with what makes me up.  You will encounter people that are truly ghosts.  Insubstantial… real wisps.  They are on the verge of personal bankruptcy.  They have spent their essence to the point they don’t have much left… just a remnant left before the Colos snatches them up. But if you do things right, toe the line, you never really need to worry about it.  It all works out.”

“So everything fits.” I said sarcastically.

“You are finally sensing a pattern here, eh?”  Chuck stepped out of the Diner and to the street edge.  The sidewalk was bustling with traffic, all manner of folks going this way and that, all of them gave Chuck a wide berth.  In the street, cars, carriages, flying contraptions, were zooming to and fro in the lanes.  I swear I saw someone go by on a broom.

“Rules!  Only three rules… the rest are suggestions.”

I frowned slightly. “That doesn’t sound too bad.  But if there are only three, that means they must be big.”

Chuck slapped my shoulder and laughed. “First rule… don’t make offers you can’t fulfill.  Second rule… don’t break vows.  Third rule… and the most important… don’t travel out of or into other people’s realms directly.”

“What does that mean?”

“You will figure it out.  It is a huge no-no, and you can get killed over it.  Proverbially speaking, of course.  Ready for the career fair?”

“You said something about a tour.”

“Yeah, I did,” he said with a grimace. “I had hoped you would forget.   The tour is a pain in the ass.  Thankfully it is short.  Ready?”

I shrugged.  Chuck shook his head with a roll of the eyes, and took my arm.  I felt that pull again as he turned sideways and I was standing on a hill facing the most spectacular landscape I had ever laid eyes on.  I felt my mouth drop open.

In the distance, bathed in a golden light from a setting sun, a massive castle rose from the green fields around it.  The castle was suffused with golden light, with tall spires, and massive walls.  Each part of the castle was floating on separate earthen platforms, connected by winding, slowly undualating golden roads.  The city fortress was huge, it defied the eyes and the senses.  I could see things flying around it and above it, and I swear I could pick up the sound of otherworldly singing far in the distance.

“That has to be heaven.” I smiled widely, probably grinning like a fool.

“Nope.  That right there is the home of the Angelus.  The opposing side to the Authority.  So by most Christians, that would be called Hell.”

“That is not hell.  That looks like paradise.”  I said in awe.

“It is for those that choose it.  For others, not so much.”  He grabbed my arm again.  “Next stop, the Authority.”

We turned again and I felt a lag I had not felt before.  It wasn’t painful, but it wasn’t painless.  We stepped on a flat plain, the ground was crystal, the grass and plants around us growing green and vibrant.  I looked closer and saw that as the plants creeped away from the crystal ground, their bases were also crystal, growing in color and solidity until it looked like an actual plant.   Off in the distance was something different than the Angelus’ floating city fortresses.  This was more elegant.  At the center of a glass and crystal city, a tower of light blossomed like a tree into the sky above the city.  Its trunk was a pillar of solid brilliance that I could look at without my eyes hurting, and I immediately felt a presence around me, welcoming me with love and kindness.  It was familiar, yet alien.  Something crazy.  My eyes followed the base of the light, up to the continuous lightening storm ranging in its branches.  It appeared to be endless.

Chuck smiled wearily. “Coming here weighs heavily.  Did you feel the creator touch your mind?”

“I did.”

“His way of saying hello.”

“Didn’t you just say that I couldn’t meet God?”  I raised my hand towards the city of light. “I obviously just did.”

“HA!  Saying hello to someone is not knowing them, dumbass.  To know the creator is to be that light… that column isn’t the creator, it is just a conduit.  The creator is up and out.”  He pointing his finger at the massive never ending lightening storm far above our heads.

“Up and out?” I lead.

He didn’t take the bait, or chose not to. “Up and out.”

Chuck grabbed my arm, looking ashen, and stepped away. We ended up outside a massive Colosseum.   Not the Greek kind of all columns and marble, but the American kind all steel and glass.  At each gate, people where streaming inwards in a constant shuffling movement.

“What is up with you?” I asked. Chuck wasn’t standing tall, leaning over a little, looking like he was about to vomit heavily on his shoes.

“Travelling to the Authority is hard for some.  Sin and all that.  Takes it out of you.  Literally.  There was a time when the balance of the Prime shifted all the way over to the Authority… A guy named Jesus was born.  Then 33 years later on Prime, it was shoved violently back to the Angelus.  It was an epic era in the history of Prime.”

“Why does that matter?  Why would you go to vomit town whenever you got close?”

“You will understand someday… maybe.  Maybe not.  I am of the latter group.  I don’t get it. So the reminder is given to me every time I show up.”

“Reminder that you have something to be repentant about?”  I ventured carefully.

“I was in real estate.  I have my fair share.”  Chuck grinned. “Every house has secrets.”

“HEEEEEY CHUCKY MARY!” A shout from far away tumbled over the tarmac. Chuck stood up straight, and his color came back.  He turned and waved.

“HEEEEEY YOURSELF, YOU FAT LOUSE.”  He yelled back.

A very obese man waddled over and gave Chuck a huge bear hug. “Another escort to the big dome, heh?”

“Doug, I would like you to meet, his eminence, the Buddha Ascendant, Tom.”  Chuck jerked his thumb at me. “And this is Doug, who found himself at the wrong end of an elephant.”

Tom laughed very loudly and pulled me into a big hug. “Well how do you do, Doug!  This is a fine day, isn’t it?”

I shrugged while encased in his meaty forearms like a huge straight jacket of beef. “I guess?”

“Yes it is!  I completely agree!”  He set me down gently.

“Chuck… I have an escort myself, but stop by in a few turns.  I need some help with a recruit.”

“Sure, Tom.  Sure.”

Tom slapped my shoulder again and started waddling back the way he came, calling out other people’s names and hugging them just as violently as he had hugged me.

“And that was Tom.”  Chuck laughed.

“Buddha?” I smiled.

“An honorary title for some people that truly are larger than life.  Tom is one of those rare people that just radiates positive energy like a small sun of happiness.”

“What is his job?”

“He is a Grader by trade, an ambassador in some ways, and all around, just a really fat happy dude.”

“Grader?”  I asked.

“Yeah, they take stock of events happening in the Prime shadows, and provide odds.  People bet on the events. So that makes him a bookie, if you will.”

I laughed.  “A buddha bookie?”

“More like a bookie buddha. Anyway… welcome to the Career Fair!”

We walked in through the gate, and a scene of abject bizarreness opened up before us.  Imagine a farmer’s market… in the middle east, a Bazaar, right?  Imagine a Bazaar taking place in all directions.  Front and back, above and below, side to side.  Every where I looked, I saw hundreds, if not thousands of booths with people everywhere. It was overwhelming.

“Wait right here.” Chuck went over and grabbed a map from a box and handed it to me. “So this will break it down for you.  Put your finger on the spot you want to check out and then say GO.   The map will take you there.   Once you make your choice, I will meet you there, and we will sign you up together.”

“Wait.  You are leaving me?” I said meekly.  I felt terror bubbling up from my gut.  My ghost gut.

“Yes I am. You will be fine.  I will be nearby… look I am right over there, handing off another case.”

Sure enough, I turned the direction he was pointing, and there was Chuck with a hand on the shoulder of very scared looking young blonde woman in the same gray Asian coveralls that I was wearing.  He waved at me.

“What the hell?” I said out loud.

“Lesson 1: Time is different here.” Chuck smiled, and waved at himself.  “Lesson 2: The statistical average is 6 days.”

“6 Days for what?”

“Until you find your next job.  See you later Doug.  Good luck.”  With a quick nod of the head, he stepped away in the odd way that he did.

And there I was. Holding a map, surrounding by thousands, if not millions of other folks, in the largest, most bizarre place I could imagine, looking like a complete ass.

Time to find a job.

So what do you tell a dead guy immediately after they die?

That was Chuck’s job.  He was a Death Transition Consultant, specializing on the more traumatic deaths. He supported the individuals that came ‘out of the world’ in a rather violent way, as he put it.  And it was his job to help me in this trying time… and to let me make my choice.

“What choice is that,” I said.

“The choice of what you are going to do, lad!  You can’t spend eternity floating about with a harp and a halo.  You have to make a living.  You have to contribute to one cause or another at some point.”

“Why?”

“WHY?!  Because you bloody well have to! The world you knew was a preliminary stage.  Qualifying for the next heat.  You are in the next race now, and it is time to step up to a line.”

“And if I don’t?” I was getting kind of pissed.  I knew I had to work to eat and have shelter in the ‘real world’, but being dead, one doesn’t need to eat, and any rain wouldn’t bother me.  Why struggle to makes ends meet when the ends just didn’t fucking matter anymore?

“If you don’t… ha.  You don’t have a choice.  You don’t get to pick inaction.  Picking inaction invites the Colos.  Then your choice just doesn’t matter anymore.”

“Carlos?  Who is Carlos?”

He sighed exasperatedly. “The Colos. C – O – L – O – S.  A nightmare of nothing.  It is a force, not a being.  You can’t reason with it, you can’t beg it.  It comes for the refuse, the trash, the fodder.  Think of the Colos as the cosmic garbage man.  He comes and cleans up the mess.  For beings like you and I, that means being unmade. Our very essence is removed from not just this plane, but all planes.  We are removed from whole of reality.  Because the Colos is not bound to time or space or anything else.  All the principles of our universe are nothing but something that needs to be cleaned up.”

“So I pick nothing, I die?  I thought I was already dead?” I said.

“Oh you are dead to that world, not to this one.  But in this one, you get unmade, your existence is wiped out everywhere.  The universe reasserts itself… Doug does not exist any more.  Your mother never had you, your father never knew you.  Your death never happened.  Blink.  One moment, Doug, the wonderful boy from Winchester, much loved by his family and friends, horrible accident with an elephant, coverage in the local paper, legend for the next fifty years… all that gone.  No Doug, period.  Get it?”

“Yeah, I get it.”  I said sourly.

“Wipe that look off your face, Doug.  You can do anything.  Anything!  The universe is your oyster so to speak.”

“Like what?”

“Oh, this and that.  The universe is huge.  Earth is constrained for a reason.  It is its own little pocket of the universe.  The rest of the universe?  Yeah, its open.  You hungry?”

“For what?  I am dead.  I don’t have to eat.”  I felt my lip curl in confusion.

“Yeah, and you don’t have to wear clothes either.  But you are.  You are not insubstantial.  You are ascended, yes, but your matter is still matter.  It takes energy to run your brain, your soul.  Your a wisp, but a wisp needs food too.”

“Uh… ok?! What does wisp food taste like?”

“Oh depends on who’s cooking.  I know a good place… come on.”  He said.

He grabbed my shoulder and turned sideways?  Not sure how to explain it… he turned away from me, I felt a pull and we were standing in front of a diner I knew of down on fifth.

“Hey, I know this place.  Good hamburgers.”

“Yes they are.  After you.” He waved his hand forward with flourish.

We stepped into the Diner, and it was the Diner, but wasn’t the place I knew.  The tables were in the same places, the upholstery was different, and the creatures running about weren’t human.  Pretty sure the cooks were demons of some sort.

“This is Roxie’s on fifth, right?” I asked.  They looked like roaches.  Huge roaches, walking upright, handing off plates to customers of all shapes and sizes on their own.

“Russell’s on fifth, actually.  Same imprint, different owner. That table is open.”

We sat and a roach thingy skittered up to the table, just inclining its head slightly.

“Two beers, two cheeseburgers, and a bucket of fries.” Chuck smiled. “Plenty of salt.”

The thing skittered off, a scratchy, tapping noise on the cheap linoleum.  I swear I heard hissing too. I lowered my voice considerably, I didn’t want to come off rude.

“What are they?”

“The roaches?  Exactly what they look like.  Roaches.”

“How did they get so big?” I said disgustedly.

“Oh Doug.  Drop that attitude right here.  Things are going to be different.  Get over it.  Enjoy it.  Endless wonder.  Yeah.  Enjoy the endless wonder.”  The beers arrived, Chuck drained his in a single go and ordered another before the roach had a chance to scamper off. “Roaches know food.  They are good at it.  These roaches are not purebreds obviously…”

“Purebreds?” I said.

“Yeah, creations.  You know, made by greater powers.  These guys are amalgamations.  Legion.  You know, many.”

“Many roaches?  Like all stuck together?”

“Toss some spirits and essences in there too.  Imagine a cosmic primordial soup, stir it around a few million years and eventually something interesting is going to crawl out.  The form works, let it go.”  He shrugged.

“Because everything fits?” I said sarcastically.

“Exactly!” He smiled widely.  “You are getting it.”

“How long are you going to hold my hand in the afterlife?”

“Oh, about as long as I need to.  You have a million questions, I have a million answers… plus I can’t leave until you make your career choice.  Kind of in my contract.”

The food arrived and we both tucked in without much discussion.  The burgers were definitely hamburgers, and the french fries were definitely cut up fried potatoes.  And it all was pretty dang good.  To someone that hadn’t eaten anything since waking up, it was like my first meal out of prison.  It was delicious.

“So… what now?” I asked.

“Well we finish our meal, then I take you for a tour, then I take you to the career fair.  I stand by you until you sign on a dotted line, then I move on to the next corpse.  No offense.”

“None taken.”  I took another bite.

“So start with the three top questions you have.”

“That is easy.  Is there a god?”

“Of course there is.”

“Oh how silly of me.” I said sardonically.

“Yes. Much.  Next question?”

“Can I meet him?”

“Ha.  Absolutely not.”

“Why?”

Chuck put his hands to the his temples and made an exploding motion outwards.  “It would blow your mind.  Quite messy.”

“So far the afterlife seems to be not all that different from the real world.”

“Who said it would be different? Not I.  I said this is the next heat in a big race.”

“You did.”

“I did.” Another mutual bite of our food.

“You said it was the next heat with your absolute shit racing analogy.” I said.

“I bet your pardon, my analogies are sublime.  I have perfected them over the last hundred years. Next question?”

“What is it all for?”

“Finally.  The question.  The big one.”  Chuck put down his hamburger and crossed his fingers over his plate. “What is the purpose of life?  What is the meaning of living on a planet, struggling, loving, losing, and then dying?  Why do you wake up on the other side expecting relief from the struggle… only to find more of it?  Ha.  Imagine what the suicides must feel like.  Glad I don’t work that department.”

He swallowed heavily and leaned towards me across the red formica tabletop.

“The answer to the the question is simple.  The point of it all is the struggle.”

“The struggle?  What the hell does that mean?”

“The struggle of love over loss, the struggle of life over death, the struggle of good over evil… its all a struggle. And it is a fight that defines the universe.  It is a fight that you will need to contribute to.”

“How?”  I felt my head swimming and stopped eating.

“Career fair!  The universe comes down to a single career fair that never ends.”

“You are fucking kidding me.” I said.  Chuck had to be pulling my leg.

“Nope.”

“A fucking, hello-my-name-is-pam-and-I-want-to-talk-to-you-about-a-career-in-sanitation, kind of career fair?”

“That is about right.  You pick your job, you place your vote, and you join a political party.  All in one swoop.”

“Now I know you are fucking with me.”

“Why is that?” Chuck ended with a chuckle.

“Because there is no possible way there are politics in the afterlife.  That is just cruel.” I shook my grimace out.

“Well it is important.  It is for earth.”

“Bullshit.”

“No listen.  The Earth is not just a planet.  It is a balancing point for the whole of the universe.  It is the source of the Prime.”

“You are seriously telling me that Earth is the center of the universe?”

“I am.  Imagine a billion earths all overlapped on each other.  Each earth has different levels if you will… your death on the Prime happens to be the center of that balance.  Depending on the balance of the scales, the Prime slides one way or the other.  But all of it matters.”

“I don’t understand at all, Chuck.” I think my eyebrows where buried in my hairline.

“This diner for instance, you recognized it, but it is not the diner you knew.  So obviously we are not on your earth, right? Its a huge teeter-totter, a big see saw.  At one end is the Angelus.  At the other end is the Authority.  Between the Authority and the Angelus, the balance of worlds is controlled, maintained, and held.  A balance where everything fits.  Your soul came from the only place souls can come from… all souls come from one place. Prime.  The entire show is driven by the souls from Prime.  And Prime is the prize.  For the side that controls Prime, controls reality.  Because if you control the source of the souls… well… you control everything.”

“And the career fair is supposed to what?  Enlist souls to either side?”  I said incredulously.

“Exactly!” Chuck beamed. “I knew you were smart when I saw you hanging from the back of an elephant!”

A roach passing by inclined its head questioningly and stopped.

“Don’t ask.” I grumbled.

I died right before my 21st birthday… like the very hour before.  I was fucking pissed.  Well I wasn’t pissed in the British sense of the word, and that made me pissed in the American sense of the word.  I should have died drunk, but being the good little boy I was, I had never had a drink or sip or smell of an alcoholic drink.

Yep, I died… um… dead sober at 20 years, 364 days, and 11 hours.

Why so specific?  Fuck, I don’t know.  Someone, somewhere, has a sense of humor.  And whoever it is, I fucking hate the guy.  Of course, that means it is probably the big guy in the sky.  And welp, that would be just my luck.  My shitty horrible terrible disastrous luck.

So you may be asking how the hell is a dead guy writing all this out right now?  Because of my cosmic luck.  Let me back up… to the day I died.

I woke up suddenly with a killer headache.  Which wasn’t much of a surprise considering the amazing thing I had just escaped.  Escape, perhaps not the best word choice, but at least a horrible amount of humiliation I would have received if it had happened.  I came to as a witness to a very lively scene.  There were two crowds watching said scene.  The first crowd happened to be normal people just passing by… going shopping, running errands, on to get their prostrates checked, you know, herding themselves along like cattle.  The first crowd tended to just circle the scene in abject horror, mouths agape, mothers shielding the eyes of their progeny, some men calling 999, others puking into the gutter.

The second crowd wasn’t really a crowd, per se.  More like a few interested parties.  They stood in a small cluster, pointing and laughing, with drinks in hand, giving each other high fives and making brash puns and jokes.  If the contrast between the two crowds is shocking to you, imagine how I felt.  I was lying down in the middle of this odd and crazy scene.

An introduction is needed.  The leader of the second crowd was one Charles Mann. Most folks just called him Chuck, a fewer number called him Mary.  Chuck is the first one that caught my eye.  Mostly because of the extremely rude jokes he was making, and also because the rest of the crowd (the shocked ones) paid his lewd and disturbing comments no mind.  That is because they couldn’t hear him.  Or see him. Chuck was dead.

A ghost.  A specter.  A man from beyond the grave.  A dead man laughing.

He quickly noticed my stare, and giggling all the more, he excused himself from his onlookers and headed over to me.  I would like to tell you that he pushed and jostled his way over to me, but he just kind of passed through everyone in the way, leaving a trail of shivering people in his wake.

“WELL, THAT WAS GREAT, DOUG!”  He said rambunctiously. “I mean damn.  No, I mean DAMN!  That was great.  I feel in need of immediate feedback to your great person-hood with a simple enjoyable clap.  Bravo.  Braaaaaa-vo!”

He furiously clapped his hands together and tossed in a few whistles for good measure.  I tried to lift my head to look at him, but I found it pretty difficult to move.  I tried to look to my left shoulder, and slowly things rotated, revealing nothing but an old wad of chewing gum and more spectators.  I tried to roll my head backwards, it lolled like a rag doll, and I could make out nothing more than I already had.  So I looked straight up.  As I saw it, looking right was going to be a hassle, and getting up seemed right out.  So I let my head fall back to a neutral position and looked up, which seemed like a completely rational choice.

It was a mistake.

There, hanging very precariously, was a dead, limp body.  Hanging.  From the back of an elephant.  Yes you read that right.  A dead body, covered in shit, hanging from the back of an elephant.  The elephant was still alive.  And in obvious distress.  I mean, come on, it had a human head stuck in it’s anus.

Then it dawned on me that I was looking at myself.  Or what was me.  A 20 year old stage hand, helping a trainer with a live elephant for a bit of practice.  A very dead me was swinging back and forth from the elephant’s ass, the neck at a very odd angle.  It didn’t look healthy.  But it wasn’t healthy, because I was dead.

I am dead.  And the elephant is screaming because it has a foreign object lodged in its ass.  Everyone knows how painful a hard shit is, it feels like something is ripping its way out as you strain over the bowl, but this poor elephant couldn’t get its painful ripper to pass. So it trumpeted, and stamped, and tried to quickly move in a circle.  It was restrained by its trainer, so instead it was forced to swing its shoulders, causing a chain reaction of swinging, culminating in a dead body twisting and swaying like a pendulum.  I won’t even bother describing the grinding noise my neck was making.

No wonder bystanders where puking.  I would have too.  Chuck reached out and offered me his hand.  I took it slowly, my body coming to, the senses flooding back down my limbs.  I was all pins and needles as everything woke up.  Chuck started pumping my hand as soon as I was on my feet.  I still felt detached.  I knew my head was attached to my body and definitely not broken, but the horror next to me kept making me feel like I needed to swallow.

“Very good to meet you Doug, my friend!  The name is Charles Mann, but you can call me Chuck.  Like the beaver.  Or woodchuck?  Whatever.” He said.

“I… uh…”  I tried to say something intelligent, but nothing seemed to want to come out.  My mouth was open.  Oooooohhhh… this is what going into shock feels like.  I had always wondered.

“Thinking about spoons?  Spoons, eh?  Or forks?  When I ‘passed on’, for some strange reason I thought about swiss army knives.  No idea why.  When I passed on the mantle of life, as it were, I could not stop thinking about pocket knives.  My consultant said that I was a rarity indeed. She was a spoon person herself, like most folks.”  He said.

“Spoons?”  Actually, I did wake up thinking about spoons.  Silver ones.  From my aunt’s house out in Liechester.  The little souvenir ones that are completely useless for anything else but gathering dust. “Yeah… little silver ones.”

“Nothing like a silver spoon! Ha!”  He clapped me on the back.  “Welcome to world, you were born with a silver spoon in your head.  And your head… well… your head has seen better sights.”

“Yeah.  I think it has.”

“So Doug.  How’s it hanging?”  Chuck started laughing hysterically.  Peals of laughter.  It was a good laugh, infectious. “Don’t worry about too much.  That sad sack of meat up there isn’t you.  Your you.  That meat sack up there will be the source of hilarious and entertaining stories for years to come, but for you, it was just a speed bump, my friend.”

“Uh, yeah.”  I tried to look away.  I did.  I seriously tried.

“Look on the bright side, Doug… at least you didn’t die from humiliation!”

“That happens?” I asked.

“Oh, a fair amount.  Plenty of people die every day.  People choke on Jello.  Which makes the wake awkward, because some fool always has to brings a jello salad.  Nasty things, aren’t they.  And then no one knows what to say.  Every Jello-toting great aunt is a right bastard anyway. Am I right?”

“I guess?”

“Right.  Now all these folks are in a quandary.  Look at them all, scratching their heads.  How exactly does one pull the head out?  Do you grab the feet and yank really hard?  Or do you leverage against the elephant’s ass cheeks and push at the corpse’s shoulders?”

“I would have just pulled.”  I said.  I was still confused, give me a break.

“Me too.  Too funny.  Let’s ‘shuffle’ off.  Ready?”

“What about your friends?”  I asked.

“Oh, they have all moved on by now.  Come along, Doug.  Let’s expand our horizons, shall we?”

“Wait a tic.  I am naked.”

“Why, yes, you are.”

“Where the hell are my clothes?”

Chuck smiled and pointed a thumb over his shoulder at my corpse.  “Right over there.”

“How can I get them off the other… me?”  I said sheepishly.

“You can’t, Doug.  Someone out there thought that every person enters the world naked, and that is how they should exit it.  So welcome to the world.  Happy Deathday!”  He tossed me an envelope and then for some bizarre reason turned away modestly.

The envelope had my name hastily scratched onto the front, with my middle name included.  I flipped it over, and instead of a standard closure, it had a small red pull cord, labelled… what else?  Pull.

I yanked on it, and with a cough of an old dying man, the envelope unfolded into something that looked like a Japanese Ghi.  I pulled the pants on quickly, and pulled the front together as best I could.

“Sandals and the belt are in the front pocket.” Chuck called over his shoulder.

“It all fits.”  I commented.

“Of course it all fits.  Everything always fits.”  He was looking at the corpse again, and started chuckling, ending in a small trailing sigh.

Happy Deathday, indeed. Happy Fucking Deathday to me.