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(technically) DEAD - excerpt

(Cooper)

I'm dead.

This is sorta pissing me off.

I don't know what happened, though. One moment I was on my way to visit my girlfriend with a big bunch of flowers, and the next I saw a big bright light and a cloud and a crowd of dudes in dresses carrying harps. Holy shit, I thought, I'm dead! Then I thought - frack, that looks like a church choir, all low-tech and acoustic and stuff. That's not where I wanna be. Bet they don't have a single computer, or if they do it's like a 386 or something, all filled with dustbunnies. There's no way I'm getting stuck in a low-tech shiny place like that with acoustic music everywhere. That's a freaky version of hell. Shit no. So I ran, or flew or something the hell away, and now I'm back home and I'm still dead.

I don't like being dead, I've decided. I'm a ghost, that much I've worked out. Like Patrick Swayze in that Ghost movie. Damned if I'd possess Whoopie Goldberg though. That was some scary shit.

Anyhow, I'm see-through, I can't eat, I can't drink. My body's nowhere to be seen, thank God or Ceiling Cat or whatever, because I think I'd puke. Or throw ectoplasm everywhere, or whatever the hell dead dudes do. I never had a strong stomach for that sorta thing.

I float around the apartment, looking for something to do. I sit in front of my computer and I'd cry my eyes out if I had eyes and tear ducts and stuff. $8000 worth of sexy high-end gaming hardware, and I can't even touch it. I must be an electrical field or a magnetic field or some shit, right? I'm afraid to go too near it in case I short something out. I'd never forgive myself if I killed Betsy.

Computer's out, then. TV? Might have the same problem, but the remote's a fair distance away. Should be safe, and besides, the TV is just a crappy thing. And I know ghosts are supposed to be able to manipulate stuff. Holy crap, I am a ghost, aren't I? Like the movie, cos I ran away from the light. Kewl.

I concentrate really hard, think solid thoughts, and poke my finger at the TV remote. It goes straight through. Damn. But I've got nothing else to do and I'm bored shitless, so I keep trying till I get the sucker pressed and the TV's on. Holy frackin' hallelujah. It's 2am now and an old crappy movie's on, but there's no way I'm gonna give myself a hernia trying to change the channel too. I settle down in my beanbag in front of the TV and try to imagine I'm eating caramel popcorn.

I wake up I don't know how many hours later and it's pitch black and there's no air and I'm panicking like nothing else. A little voice in the back of my head is telling me I'm dead and I'm not going to suffocate, but I'm too busy panicking to pay the bastard any attention. I thrash around, screaming, and suddenly the light comes back and there's air and space around me. I lie on the floor panting. Was that hell or something? That sucked worse than the shiny acoustic place. I look around, and the beanbag's lying next to me, all crumpled like someone's picked it up and shaken it then stomped on it. Just wait a bloody moment – was I stuck in a frackin' beanbag? How embarrassing. I'm just getting to the 'thank God there was no one around to see that' relief stage when I hear a quiet snigger. It quickly turns into a cackle of glee.

“Damn, boy, that looked like the beanbag was giving birth to a nerd.”

I get myself upright in double-quick time. A blonde see-through chick is standing in my lounge room laughing at me. She's not half-bad looking, actually – short skirt covering a nice arse, nice tits in a low-cut top. But I prefer women who laugh at my jokes, not my humiliations.

“Who the hell are you?” I demand.

“I'm Linda. I'll be your guide to the afterlife, or some shit. And can we hurry up about it? They yanked me away from a hot tub full of hot angel boys and a bottomless bottle of Baileys for this.”

“Geez, you could just frack off right now if you'd like.”

“Nothing I'd like better, kiddo – but I've got a duty. OK? Now, first – put some clothes on. Please?”

I look down, and yup, I'm naked as the day I was born. Crap. I do my damnedest to imagine clothes, but all I manage is a pair of undies. Linda sniggers at me, sits down on the lounge, and tells me to try harder. Slowly I get a tshirt and a pair of boardies clothing me, but every time I look at Linda I remember being butt-naked in front of her and it all disappears again. Shit shit shit! So I stop looking at her, and I manage to keep myself clothed. Well yay me, I learnt to keep my clothes on with a hot woman in the room. Seems like death's not gonna be that much different from life.

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