Chapter 1 - Pushing Up The Daisies

When I said that it isn't the hair colour's fault, I didn't think I'd be taking back so soon.
The blonde bloke stood next to me in the snow covered graveyard, looking blankly at the coffin like a stunned Bush Baby, finally stirred from his thoughts. Assuming he was capable of something so complicated.
''I'm dead?'' He said, as if in awe.
''Yes.''
''Are you sure?''
''After that disturbingly amusing incident with the old sock, I'm pretty sure.''
He went silently back to his thoughts.
After a few moments of silence: ''Are you absolutely positive?''
''For the last bloody time, yes!'' I growled.
''Who did you say you were again?''
If idiocy had a shape and that shape had a name, it would be called Mark Hagans and would look identical to the bloke stood next to me.
''How long is this gonna take?'' I sighed, glancing at one of my hour glasses.
''I dunno. Ain't never been to a funeral before. Auntie Beth, y'know, the woman who raised me? Anyway, she never let me go to a funeral because it'd end up scarring my mind, she said.''
Assuming he had enough mind to scar...
After that last, short exchange and remarkably pointless exchange, the awkward silence fell down on us both again as the snow once more started to fall.
''How long did yours take?''
''Pardon?'' I looked at him strangely.
''Y'know, your funeral. You did mention you were alive at some point, right?''
''Yeah. I was alive at some point, but that was over fifty years ago.''
''Well, did you have one or not?''
''No.''
''What? Why not? Everyone's gotta have a funeral at some point.'' He gasped, wiping away a snow flake that'd just landed on his nose.
''Not me. It's kinda hard to have a funeral when your remains have been ingested by your English teacher.''
''Your English teacher was a cannibal?''
''No. She was a six limbed, seventy foot tall alien with the temper of a midget who took it upon herself to devour me once I'd bled to death. Personally, I'd had have prefered the after school detention...''
Once more, the silence of the mourners got it's icy grip on us and smothered us.
''Not all midgets are bad tempered, y'know? I knew one. Was a nice gal. Used to help me clear Auntie's garden at the weekend.'' He started rambling.
''I meant short.''
''Short what?'' Mark asked, looking confused.
''A short temper.''
''Oh.'' He finally said.
We watched in silence as the coffin was slowly lowered into the ground.
Well, he was watching, I was catching snow flakes on my tongue, like you when you're bored out of your skull.
''So. Did you kill me or just take my soul?''
''Both.''
''Ah.'' He paused. ''But why a sock?''
''I was about to ask you the same thing, but it only took a second, by the state of your flat, to realise why you were using the sock.''
His brow furrowed, again obviously deep in thought as he tried to put two and two together and eventually came up with five.
''Huh?'' He eventually said.
It was obviously a well thought out answer. If you had the brain capacity of a knat in winter. Well it was winter, so I could forgive him for not being completely on the ball.
''Because it was the nearest thing to hand.'' I sighed, finally giving in on him. ''And it was mildly entertaining to watch. To a certain extent, anyway...''
Another brief pause.
''Think I'll ever have sex again?'' He asked curiously.
''With the size of that sock you had? I honestly don't know.''
''Oh.'' He said simply as the graveyard fell into silence once again.
We watched as the Eskimo-like mourners trudged away into the thickly falling snow.
Possibly, some of them, if not all, were secretly giggling to themselves about Mark's untimely demise.
''Y'know you could've killed me in the throes of passion with a beautiful woman.''
''Aye. But I killed you in the throes of passion with an old, grubby sock you found under the sofa instead.''
''That's not the same!'' he whined.
''Well, you could've drawn a face on it before you started your little one man fap-fest. And I'm still suprised that you didn't wear out your poor old DVD player.''
''That was my third DVD player actually.'' He corrected in a nonchalant tone.
''You really did lead a sad little life, didn't you?'' I said as I looked down at Mark, who was now sat on a grave stone.
''I was a banker, so what d'you expect?''
''Heh. A banker by day and a wan--''
''Don't say it! I got enough of that off my boss and collegues at work!'' He grunted.
''I can imagine their reaction after hearing that you died in the grip of ecstacy.'' Emphasis on the ''Grip'' by the way...
''That's not funny!'' He growled and stormed off through the grave yard.
''I know, but it's the best sodding giggle I've had all day!'' I laughed.
You really shouldn't laugh at something as tragic as this, but that's what it was. Tragic. But then I am a generally morbid and an easily amused person.
After the realisation that my freshly harvested soul was walking stubbornly off into the sunset, I had to set off after him before he vanished for good and started haunting some old woman, driving her to own hundreds of cats.

You are not authorized to comment here. Your must be registered and logged in to comment