After Death (not finished)
It's note easy being dead. I mean, REALLY not easy. It's hard to get someone's attention, especially when you need it. But you make do. You find ways. You knock over a coffee cup (which is really draining); you slap a wall; hell, you talk to the dog. The interesting thing about death is that when you talk to the dog, the dog talks back. Seriously. And what they say! My God! You think dogs are dumb, but they are geniuses. Smarter than man. Some of them are fucking scholars.
And meeting other people? It's really interesting. Especially explaining how you died. Most will say, "heart attack." Or, "old age." But you get a few fun ones. "Locked in a fridge," one guy told me. He nodded and smiled when he said it. I laughed out loud but he didn't seem to mind. There's no reason to be embarrassed when your dead. I didn't go any easy way, myself. But I lie when people ask me. "Hit by a car," I told one girl. "Choked," I told another. The truth? Well that's the fun part, isn't it? The truth is that my body doesn't show the scars; there are no reminders of how I died. My hand isn't shattered. All the bones are hard. And my fingers work fine. You really wouldn't guess...My face? Not a hint of burning. Death is the best type of botox. (And people have died by botox overdoses. They can show you how they looked - that's interesting. You get an image in your head, kinda of like looking at a television screen from an inch away where you can see all the blues, greens, and reds. It's grotesque.) I've never sent a picture of me right after I died. I don't think they could handle it. There are rules after death. Lots of them. And although it seems like a pain, you don't really mind following them. Death makes you very lethargic. It's like smoking a lot of pot that doesn't make you paranoid or nauseaus.
And meeting other people? It's really interesting. Especially explaining how you died. Most will say, "heart attack." Or, "old age." But you get a few fun ones. "Locked in a fridge," one guy told me. He nodded and smiled when he said it. I laughed out loud but he didn't seem to mind. There's no reason to be embarrassed when your dead. I didn't go any easy way, myself. But I lie when people ask me. "Hit by a car," I told one girl. "Choked," I told another. The truth? Well that's the fun part, isn't it? The truth is that my body doesn't show the scars; there are no reminders of how I died. My hand isn't shattered. All the bones are hard. And my fingers work fine. You really wouldn't guess...My face? Not a hint of burning. Death is the best type of botox. (And people have died by botox overdoses. They can show you how they looked - that's interesting. You get an image in your head, kinda of like looking at a television screen from an inch away where you can see all the blues, greens, and reds. It's grotesque.) I've never sent a picture of me right after I died. I don't think they could handle it. There are rules after death. Lots of them. And although it seems like a pain, you don't really mind following them. Death makes you very lethargic. It's like smoking a lot of pot that doesn't make you paranoid or nauseaus.