Neither Melanie nor Dave wanted the evening to end, so they decided that it did not have to.

Dave realised what those skinny boys with acoustic guitars had been singing about all these years. The rain made London shine in the flat orange glare of the street lights and the city belonged only to them. As they walked along the bank of the Thames, Melanie slid her arm through Dave’s. her fingers searched for his and entwined themselves around them. They found an all night cafe where Dave revealed secrets he had never told anyone and she returned his trust by telling him hers.

Soon tiredness took hold and, hiding yawns from each other, they headed to the nearest underground station and the first train of the morning. Unsure of what to say, or how to say it, Melanie leaned forward and kissed Dave. She tasted of coffee, mints and hope. Pressing her body next to his, she was real and warm and alive.

“Call me,” she whispered then turned around and headed into the station. Dave watched her until she was past the ticket barriers. He decided to walk the quiet streets for a while. He splashed in the puddles and wondered if he would ever stop smiling. He didnt have to wonder too much longer.
“Nice weather for ducks,” said a voice behind him. Dave turned around to see Death stood on the pavement. “I could never figure out what you meat puppets meant by that. For a time I assumed that ducks were very romantic creatures and enjoy walking in the rain thinking about other ducks they had loved.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I’m guessing it all went well with Melanie. There’s no need to thank me.”
“Thank you for what?”
Death pulled the contract from his cloak. He looked at the last page, but Dave’s signature was no longer there.
“Oh bloody hell. Stupid linear time. Can’t causality take one for the team just once?” Death moaned, “Change of plan. Can I show you something?”
“If it’s quick.”
Death grabbed Dave by the wrist and it felt as if he were being poured like a cocktail from one point to another.

Suddenly they were stood in a dark bedroom. An old man was perched at the end of the bed while his body lie beneath the covers. Dave had never seen a dead body, other than his own, and he was surprised by how little it disturbed him.
“Hello, Michael,” Death said in a kind voice.
“I wondered when you’d get here,” the old man sighed.
“Sorry I’m a bit late. Traffic’s a nightmare.” The old man smiled then pointed a finger at Dave.
“Who’s he?”
“Work experience,” Death answered.
Michael turned his attention back to the dark figure. “You know you’re a lot shorter in person?” he said.
“So I’ve been told,” said Death, glancing at Dave.
“What’s it like, then? Eternity?”
Death thought for a moment before answering.
“Long,” he finally said, “I’ve been watching a lot of Scooby Doo recently. Have you got any biscuits?”
“In the kitchen. The cupboard by the window.”
Death turned to Dave. “Make yourself useful”

Dave headed down the stairs into the kitchen. As he rummaged through the cupboards, Dave looked at the microwave meals and the soups and realised that Michael had lived and died alone. At that very moment, he could not think of anything sadder.

When Dave returned to the bedroom with the packet of biscuits, Death had settled into a chair with his feet up on the bed.
“I just can’t see where they got the money from,” Death said as he helped himself from the packet, “Ooh. Garibaldi. Lovely.”
“Example?” said Michael.
“In one episode, Scooby and the gang were investigating a haunted hotel. It turned out that the janitor, it’s always the janitor…”
“Or the theme park owner,” interjected Michael.
“Or, indeed, the theme park owner. Anyway, the janitor was pretending that the hotel was haunted to drive down its value so he could buy the place cheap. But the holographic and laser equipment he used must have cost thousands, hundreds of thousands even. He would’ve got the place at a rock bottom price. But he would’ve owed a huge whack on the military hardware. It was a completely false economy.”
“If it wasn’t for those meddling kids,” Dave said.
“And they always find a rational explanation for the supposedly supernatural events but nobody ever mentions the talking dog,” Death continued, “‘Hmmm. Egyptian exhibition possibly haunted by a Mummy? Let’s investigate!’ You’re having a conversation about this with a Great Dane and he is actively disagreeing with you! Deal with the issue at hand!”
“Do you think we could get on with this?” Michael asked. Dave felt that he was intruding on a very private moment and slipped quietly out of the room unnoticed.
“Yes. Of course. Sorry. Take my hand.”

Dave returned from the kitchen to find Death was turning the pages of a half read murder-mystery novel that had been sat on the bedside table. He flicked to the last page.
“I should’ve told him how it ended. There’s nothing worse than not knowing,” Death muttered. Dave pulled the duvet up to Michael’s chin as if he were simply in the deepest of sleeps.
“I phoned for an ambulance,” Dave said, “I didn’t know how long he’d be here otherwise”
“Thank you. I guess there’s nothing more for us to do” said Death. He grabbed Dave’s wrist and Dave’s being was sucked up and spat across the country.

When Dave opened his eyes, he saw that they were stood outside his flat. The rain had finally stopped and fingers of sunlight crawled over the dark glossy roofs.
“I’m not bad, or evil, Dave. Are you defined by your job? No. I’m here because you all need me,” Death sighed. He seemed tired. “But there are probably things you need to do. I’ll see you around.”
“Maybe.”
“Oh, you will. Eventually,” Death said as he disappeared into the ether.
Eventually. Dave understood. The soul was just too strong, too full of life, to be stopped. It had a momentum of its own and all death could do was deflect its path of travel. Sometimes you needed a companion for a journey. Nobody had to be alone.

His exhaustion forgotten, Dave knew what he had to do. He quickly showered, changed his clothes and quietly closed the flat’s door behind him so as to not wake Gary, who had fallen asleep on the couch again. Dave made his way beneath the waking city until he arrived at Paddington station.

“Where are you going?” the bored woman in the ticket office asked him.
“Stratford. Warwickshire. I’m going home,” Dave said with purpose.
“You can’t go home.”
“Well that’s your point of view.”
“No I mean there’s a signal failure just outside the station. You’ll need to take the Bakerloo to Marylebone and then change at Tring.”
“Oh, right. Thanks. I’ll do that then.”

To Be Continued…

——————————————————————

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Dave made his way across the rainy city as fast as he could. He found Melanie sat in a corner of the bar. Illuminated by the candlelight in her white dress, Dave was reminded of souls glowing in a dark forest. As he shivered and dripped water onto the stone floor, Dave truly felt that he was punching above his weight. He was soon warmed, though, by the wine, the fire and the company. So what if she was out of his league? Weirder things had happened to him today.

“How did it go at the hospital?” Melanie asked as she poured the last drops from their third bottle of wine into her glass.
“What?” Dave asked, confused, “Oh. Yes. I don’t think there’s any permanent damage.”
Melanie pointed to her hairline. “You wanna feel something permanent? Just put your hand there.”
Dave leant across the table and, gently brushing away her hair, felt Melanie’s forehead.
“You just feel that little lump? St Paddy’s Day. Dublin.”
Dave slumped back into his seat and thought for a moment.
“I got that beat,” he said as he rolled up the sleeve of his shirt, grabbed Melanie’s hand and placed it on his arm. She rubbed his skin.
“Moron let his dog loose at a beach party,” Dave continued, “Bit right through my jacket. The dog. Not the moron.”
Under the table, Melanie threw her leg over Dave’s. She hitched her dress up slightly to reveal a dark scar against her smooth pale thigh.
“Thresher,” Melanie announced proudly.
“Thresher?” Dave repeated.
“It was an off-licence. New Year’s Eve in Glasgow. A guy fell through the window. Shard of glass caught me.”
Dave put his other leg over Melanie’s and rolled his trouser leg up. He rubbed a patch of rough skin on his calf. “Glastonbury last year.”
“You were there?”
“No, I fell off the roof trying to adjust the satellite dish so I could watch it on the telly.”
“You wanna drink?” asked Melanie, “Drink to your leg?”
“I’ll drink to your leg,” agreed Dave. He looked at the empty wine glass in front of him. “Shall we get another bottle?”

Dave swung his arm to attract the attention of a passing waiter, but knocked Melanie’s full glass of wine over. Time seemed to slow as he watched the dark liquid splash all over the table and onto Melanie’s pale dress. She leapt up as if an electric charge had been put through her chair. Panicked, Dave attempted to dab the growing dark stain with a napkin.

“What are you doing?” she yelled, “Oh God. I’m going to have to get this in soak. It’ll be ruined,” Melanie grabbed her coat and wrapped it around herself.
“I’m so sorry,” Dave mumbled.
“It’s okay. Accidents happen. Thanks for the drink. I’ll see you at work on Monday,” Melanie said, already heading for the door. She walked out of the bar without looking back.

Dave stared at his reflection in the pub’s bathroom mirror. The wine in his stomach seemed to have been replaced with a mixture of lead and crushing embarrassment.
“You idiot,” he groaned.
“Don’t be so hard on yourself.”
Dave jumped when he saw Death step out from one of the cubicles.
“Could you not do that?”
“You like that girl, don’t you? Personally, I believe that love is merely a chemical imbalance that makes you forget your credit card limit.”
“Can I help you?” asked Dave impatiently.
“No, but I can help you. Would you like another go at tonight? Best out of two? I can arrange that. I once had a chat with Einstein. Apparently the theory of relativity is nothing to do with time running slower the closer you get to your relatives.”
“And you’d do that for me?” Dave asked with suspicion.
“Of course. You’d just have to come to work for me in return.”
“My mother warned me never to make deals with anthropomorphic personifications in pub toilets”
“She sounds like a smart woman.”
Maybe it was the wine or the desperation, but Dave told himself that everybody deserved a second chance. He just never thought that it could be so literal.
“Okay,” Dave said, “This isn’t going to screw up the space-time continuum or anything?”
“Nobody will realise I’ve done anything. I just need you to sign this.”
Death produced a thick contract and a silver pen from the folds of his dark cloak. Dave skimmed through the pages.
“Death accepts no responsibility or liability for any loss, injury, embarrassing family encounters or changes to documented historical fact…” he muttered to himself, “This liability includes, but is not limited to, becoming your own father and/or mother, the rise of Hitler or the inexplicable success of Coldplay.”
“It’s pretty standard temporal law,” Death explained as he inspected his finger nails. Dave shrugged his shoulders and signed his name at the bottom of the last page.
“So, what happens now?” asked Dave as he passed the pen and contract back to Death.
“I think the question should be ‘what happens then?’” said Death.

*

You wanna drink?” asked Melanie, “Drink to your leg?”
“I’ll drink to your leg,” agreed Dave. He looked at the empty wine glass in front of him. “Shall we get another bottle?”

Dave swung his arm to attract the attention of a passing waiter, but knocked Melanie’s full glass of wine over. Before it could complete its trajectory, time juddered to a halt. Panic was frozen on Dave’s face as the room was caught in a moment of existence.

Death strolled over to the table and picked up the wine glass that was balanced at an impossible angle. He drunk the contents down and placed it back into its halted free fall. He then moved Dave’s arm like he was playing with an oversized action figure so that his hand was beneath the glass. Death stepped back like a sculptor admiring a newly completed work of art before vanishing.

Time lurched back into motion. In an instant, Dave caught the now empty wine glass before it bounced off of the table.
“Wasn’t that full? Where did it go?” Dave asked as he placed the glass down and scanned the floor with his eyes.
“That’s two times you’ve saved the day now.”
“I suppose.”
“Why did you do that?” Melanie asked.
“Well, wine stains are a nightmare to remove,” Dave replied.
“I’m not talking about tonight.”
Dave realised that this was his chance. His heart seemed to fill his whole chest and his tongue became as dry and heavy as desert stone. “Because this is a better world with you in it.”

They looked at each other and it was as if time had halted once again.

12. Tomorrow Is Another Day >

Anne opened the garage door. It rattled up into the roof to reveal a black Morris Minor. Anne gave the car’s bonnet a quick polish.
“That’s it, is it? The deathmobile?” Dave asked, unable to disguise the disappointment in his voice.
“Get in. There’s something I want to show you,” Anne said.

Anne and Dave travelled in silence as they drove further from the choking streets of the heart of the city. Soon, the buildings began to shrink and spread out as if the world had relaxed and opened its belt a few notches.

After half an hour, they pulled into a car park and Anne killed the engine. Dave could see a forest steadily darkening in the faint late afternoon light.
“Come on,” ordered Anne and she climbed out of the car. Every nerve in his body sang out a warning, yet still he followed. They headed deeper into the woods, the branches above their heads growing ever thicker. Anne moved with a practiced grace, while Dave tripped over exposed roots and snapped twigs underfoot.

“In 1828, a young man and woman fell in love,” Anne whispered, “He told to her to wait for him for a year while he went off to find his fortune so that they could marry. She retreated to these woods. A year came and went. When he didn’t return, she threw herself into the lake just over there.”
“Wow.”
“Ssh!” Anne ordered.

They had stepped into a clearing, the trees circling them like an attentive audience. A beautiful young woman in a white dress seemed to float serenely between the trunks. An otherworldly light illuminated her path. Dave could swear it came from within her. She came into the clearing and Dave could clearly see that she was, in fact, hovering. Where her feet should be, there was only a mist. Even with his limited knowledge of anatomy, Dave realised that wasn’t quite right. Dave started to back away, but Anne gently placed a hand on his arm.

“It’s alright to be freaked out the first time,” Anne reassured him. Anne took a step towards the spirit in front of her.
“Rebecca?” she asked gently. The creature that was once Rebecca turned its head towards them. Dave held his breath for fear that it might shatter the moment into a tiny thousand pieces. Then his mobile phone began to ring. He took it out of his pocket. It was Melanie. Anne and the ghost of Rebecca looked over at him.
“Sorry. I need to get this,” he said sheepishly. He answered the call, “Hello? Fine. You…? Oh. No. I just had a hospital appointment… That’s tonight? Of course it is… No. Tonight’s fine. Look, I’m in the middle of something. Sorry. See you later. Bye.” Dave hung up. “Got a date tonight.”
Anne and the ghost of Rebecca looked less impressed than Dave had hoped and turned their attentions back to each other.
“Are you friends of Jerome?” the ghost asked.
“Yes. We’d like you to come with us,” Anne replied softly.
“I cannot. I must wait here for my love. He will return for me. He promised.”
“I know. He did return. The day after you took your life. You see, 1828 was a leap year. You forgot.”
This information hung in the air for a moment before Dave burst into laughter.
“What? That is the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard!” he forced out between snorts. Anne looked angry. Rebecca reacted to Dave’s outburst by retreating towards the woods.
“Don’t go. We can take you to Jerome. You just need to take my hand,” Anne said quickly. Anne took a careful step towards Rebecca, her hand outstretched. Rebecca floated towards Anne, her fingers reaching for the warm touch of the living. An intense blinding light flashed from their fingertips and Rebecca was gone.

*

Dave stared at the darkness stretching out in front of him from the passenger seat of the car. He munched thoughtfully on a chocolate Hob Nob.
“This is what we do. We find the lost. We rescue those who were left behind. We bring comfort to those who are afraid,” Anne said.
“You’ve been practicing that, haven’t you?” Dave asked between biscuit bites.
“A bit. Yes. Since you crossed over, you too are a link between this world and the next. You could only see them before. Now you can help them cross over. They were read-only, but now it’s all re-writable. Sort of.”
“Why doesn’t he sort it out?”
“I don’t know. Pride?”
“So how did you ‘cross over’?” Dave made speech marks with his fingers and immediately regretted it. Partly because he thought it made him look foolish, but mainly because he dropped crumbs over the car’s pristine interior.
“I don’t know you well enough to talk about it.”
“Oh. Embarrassing, was it?”

It started to rain on the drive home. Dave watched the water on the passenger window. The streaks split, merged and ran down in paths that shimmered in the light of the approaching city. A thought had been playing hide-and-seek with Dave since they had left the forest.
“When I was a kid, there was this girl. Emily. We played together. Then we moved house. The last time I saw her, she was staring down from my old bedroom window as we drove off. Do you think she’s still there?”
Anne just continued to stare at the road ahead.

Anne and Dave arrived back at Crow Road and parked the car back in the garage. They ran to the shelter of the building, splashing in puddles pooling in the pockmarked road. As they climbed the stairs, they could hear music playing loudly. They entered the office and it appeared to be coming from behind Death’s Door. Dave realised that it was Blue Oyster Cult’s ‘(Don’t) Fear The Reaper’.
Anne knocked on the frosted glass and then marched in uninvited. Death was dancing to the music, his scythe a replacement for a guitar. Death turned the music off and it was replaced with an awkward silence.
“I’ve had a very hard day. Before you say anything, have you got a song named after you? No,” Death said indignantly. Anne did not reply, but simply placed the half eaten packet of biscuits on the desk. “Oh, bloody hell. Who’s been eating these?”
“Yeah. That’ll be me,” Dave admitted, “Can I ask you something? Jesus rising from the dead. Was that one of your mistakes? I ask because I’m concerned that wars have been fought and millions of lives lost over what was essentially a cock up.”
“You take one day off for the Easter bank holiday and you never hear the end of it. And how do you guys commemorate the resurrection? By spending Bank Holiday Monday walking around DIY stores wishing you were dead too. Anyway, what are you still doing here? Haven’t you got a date?” Dave looked at his watch. “Oh no. I’m going to be late.”
“Go,” ordered Death, “I will see you soon.”
“You do know that saying stuff like that doesn’t get any less creepy?” Anne asked.
“Thanks for the… erm… biscuits,” Dave shouted back as he sprinted out of the door.

11. You’re Gonna Need A Bigger Boat >

The office was cramped, yet uncomfortable. Desks and filing cabinets were jammed next to each other like analogue Tetris. Sometimes, Anne looked across the rooftops towards the gleaming air conditioned towers of the City, but only sometimes. This was a vocation. A calling. Like a teacher, surgeon or those people that sell cupcakes on the internet. She moved with a crisp efficiency. A quick check that the coffee was warm, a hand run through her hair. She was ready. It was time.

The stairs creaked beneath Dave’s feet like old men’s bones. The air smelled of accountancy and failed internet start ups. He arrived at a door and, unsure of what else to do, knocked three times. “Come in!” Anne called from the other side of the door.

Dave stepped into the small office. The watery winter sunlight splashed over the furniture and the woman stood in the centre of the room. Dave guessed that she was in her early thirties and overly-attached to her cat.

“I’m Anne. Can I get you a drink?”
“Hello,” replied Dave, “I’m Dave. But you already know that. I’ll have a coffee, please. Black.”
Anne poured him a cup from the pot and passed it over. Dave sipped the finest coffee he had ever tasted. He drifted off on thoughts of home and comfort. This was a coffee beyond the skills of mortals.
“You found us, then?” Anne asked.
“Pardon? Yes. What have I found, exactly?”
“Perhaps we should go and see the boss?” suggested Anne.
“Perhaps we should.”
Anne walked over to another door and rapped her knuckles on the frosted glass. She let herself in and Dave followed.

Death sat in a forest of post-it notes and files. His feet were up on the keyboard of an untouched computer. Dave rolled his eyes at a sign on the desk that read ‘You don’t have to be dead to work here but it helps’. Death was shouting into a telephone.
“I just want to know my bank balance. My mother’s maiden name? I was born of chaos and pandemonium. What do you mean that’s not what you’ve got on the computer? Right, mate. You’re on my list.” Death slammed the phone down and took a long swig from a takeaway coffee cup. It was then he noticed Anne and Dave.
“Oh, hello. You made it in the end.”
“I had a dream about you…”
“Let me stop you right there. The only way you could make this conversation any less interesting is if you were dreaming about showing me your holiday photographs.”
Anne stepped forward. “I think somebody is having a bad day.”
Death sighed and picked up a newspaper from the desk. He threw it towards Dave.
“Humanity. I love you all, but you’ve really got to stop being wankers to each other. When will you learn? Whatever your gender, race, religion or sexual orientation, you’re all as insignificant as each other. Lots of you are going to be very embarrassed when you find out there’s no supreme being, no divine plan and we’re all just making it up as we go along.”
Dave would never have considered himself religious in any way, but he felt he should make an effort to defend his species.
“But people need something to cling to. Some order. Some reason.”
“Yes, everything happens for a reason,” Death said, “But sometimes the reason is life is cold and random and awful. Like telephone banking. I need a biscuit.”
“I’ll warn you now, we’re out of chocolate Hob Nobs,” Anne said.
“What? The chocolate Hob Nob is humanity’s crowning achievement.”
“I can go and get some if you want?”
“No. Screw this. I can manipulate time and space. If anyone needs me, I’ll be at Friday. Anne will give you the tour. I don’t know what I’d do without her.”
Death disappeared, slipping through a gap in the fabric of reality.
“I’m sorry about that. He can get a bit grumpy,” Anne said.
“What is this? I’m still in a coma in the hospital, right?”
“You know those moments when you’ve seen someone but nobody else has?”
“Hallucinations?”
“Death’s mistakes.”
Anne took the opportunity to get on with some filing while she waited for Dave to arrive at an answer. It was like he was trying to work out the sixth character of a password without using his fingers. 
“Ghosts?” Dave finally asked. Anne nodded her head. His eyes widened as he looked her up and down. He reached out and prodded her with his finger. Anne looked cross.
“Please don’t do that. A while back, it all got a bit too much for him. Some slipped through the net. He was all ’Keith Richards is still alive? Bloody hell. Who did I collect in 1971, then?’. I was brought in to help with the paperwork.”
“Are you telling me ghosts are administrative errors?”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“And I’m here because..?”
“We’re hiring.”
The conversation seemed to clog up Dave’s brain. The words jammed themselves between the neurons and coated the synapses.
“I’ve already got a job. Thanks for the coffee, but I’m going to have to go now.”
Dave opened another door, but a wave of chattering and shrieking knocked him back. The noise almost overwhelmed him. He staggered forward and slammed the door shut.
“What was that?” Dave gasped.
“That’s the room of infinite monkeys working at infinite typewriters. They were left here by the last tenant.”
“What do they do?”
Anne picked up a bound stack of paper. “Just a screenplay for an Adam Sandler movie so far. It’s not much, but it’s a start.”
Death. Monkeys. Drinkable coffee in an office. Dave realised that these were all figments of a deranged imagination. The only rational explanation for all of this was that he was heading for a spectacular breakdown. He had to get out. He looked around for another door and made his way towards it.
“But you’ve not even seen the Deathmobile,” Anne called after him. Dave stopped. He turned around.
“The Deathmobile?”

10. Ghost Etiquette >

Sunlight tumbled down through a canopy of leaves above Dave’s head. He was sat on the forest floor across from Death. A chessboard sat on a boulder between the two of them, Death was contemplating his next move.

“This is a dream, isn’t it?” Dave asked.
“You don’t have to worry if you dream of Death. No, you only have to worry if Death dreams of you,” Death replied as he moved a chess piece.
“Is this going to take long? I’ve got work in the morning.”
“Oh, yes. Your new job. I’ve heard about that.”
“You’ve got to pay the rent somehow,” Dave shrugged.
“Have you thought about getting a job you enjoy?”
“A job I enjoy? I’m sorry, I don’t get you. I mean, I understand the individual words. Just not in that order and not in that sentence,” Dave picked up a bishop from the board, “How does this move again?”
“Diagonally. I think. It’s been a while. Mostly people want to play Angry Birds,” Death replied, “Let me explain something to you. Bodies are just meat puppets for the soul.”
“Meat puppets?”
“If Star Trek has taught humanity one thing, it’s how to bang hot alien chicks. If Star Trek has taught humanity two things, it’s also that you will transcend your corporeal forms and become entities of pure energy. I don’t know where you’d put your bloody car keys, though.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“I could show you so much. But you never write. You never call,” Death sighed as he moved a pawn.
“I don’t know how to,” Dave said, moving a knight to capture Death’s pawn.
“I think you do,” Death replied.
“Checkmate.” Dave said triumphantly.
A confused Death looked down at the board.
“What the fu-”

Gasping for air, Dave jerked awake. A moment of clarity. A vision as sharp as a knife slicing through cloud. He threw off the sweat soaked sheets and padded over to a green plastic bag with ‘PATIENT PROPERTY” printed on it. Under the milk light of the moon, he tipped the contents over the bedroom floor. He rummaged through the pile. Smashed devil horns, torn tee shirt and jeans.

Dave turned the crumpled trousers in this hands. Nervously, he put a hand in the back pocket. He pulled out a business card. He ran his fingers over the raised text. One Crow Road.

He would be phoning in sick tomorrow.

*

Dave sat in the kitchen sipping cold coffee and staring at the business card. What he had assumed to be his body’s biochemical reaction to life and then death had become harder to explain. Since surviving the accident, he had slept like he had never been afraid. Now the world was bigger and more frightening than since he had been a child.

Gary’s bedroom door slammed. Dave shoved the business card in to his pocket as Gary stumbled in. He opened the fridge door and peered inside with bleary eyes.

“Shouldn’t you be at work?” he asked as he removed a take away pizza box.
“Day off,” Dave lied. Gary sniffed the contents of the box. His nose wrinkled. “That’s disgusting,” Gary said and placed the box back in the fridge.
“Why did you put it back, then?” Dave asked.
“Because there’s no room left in the bin,” Gary replied as he pulled out a cheesecake.
“Cheesecake for breakfast?”
“What’s the problem? It’s dairy and cereal. It’s practically a bowl of cornflakes.”
“Can I ask you something?”
“I’m not explaining where babies come from again.”
“What do you think happens when you die?”
“That accident’s opened a whole can of philosophical whoop ass, hasn’t it? Honestly? I don’t know.”
“That’s unusual for you.”
“All I know is that God is dead and I am an insignificant speck in an uncaring universe. But there’s cheesecake. So, y’know, swings and roundabouts.”

*

Dave had been surprised to discover there was only one Crow Road in the whole of London. It had taken several strolls up and down the length of the main street until he found the entrance where he was sure a shop had been previously.

Crow Road was a cul-de-sac lined with office buildings whose brickwork had been smoothed and softened by decades of wind and rain. This unassuming passage way did not look like a location where worlds collided. Dave pulled his winter coat close, wrapping himself against a chill that was not meteorological.

Dave walked up to the first door along the alleyway. He went to press the buzzer, but hesitated as he considered the ridiculousness of the situation. He had been brought here by a supernatural business card. It must be a practical joke. Gary had heard him talking in his sleep, printed a card out and hidden it for Dave to find. But it would require a sense of purpose and effort that Gary did not normally possess….

The intercom crackled into life.

“Dave Marwood?” asked the woman on the other end. Flustered, Dave pressed the button, “Erm… Yes.”
“We’ve been expecting you.”
The door unlocked with an electronic buzz.
“Maybe they have cheesecake,” Dave muttered to himself. He pushed the door open and stepped through onto the other side.

9. Office Politics >

A bidding war broke out and the price had reached £999,999.00 before eBay removed the item.

Their email stated that “the listing didn’t offer a specific item for sale”.

They weren’t wrong there. It was an attempt to sell EVERYTHING!

What follows is a copy of the original listing and the questions and answers from potential buyers and the mysterious seller.

“Due to an increase in running costs in these times of financial hardship, the decision has been taken to put the entire universe up for auction.

At 13.7 billion years old, it is in need of some modernisation. There are some black holes, but these can be sorted with a lick of magnolia paint. Though it’s quite roomy, we’d suggest knocking through an extension into a parallel universe.

Included in the sale:

30 billion trillion observable stars. We think there may some more in the attic. If we find them, we’ll throw them in.

Indeterminate number of planets – Some rocky. Some gas. One – interestingly – made entirely of nougat.

Life in all its form and splendour. And Chris Moyles. Sorry.

Full deeds and meaning of life written on the back of a cigarette packet.

Instructions. (Please note that Quantum Mechanics was built on a Friday. Some of the bits are the wrong way round).

Would suit Pan-Dimensional Overlords of unspeakable horror.

Please note that the photo is not to scale. Buyer collects.”

Q. I myself am a restaurant owner. I hear there’s a rather nice restuarant at the end of the universe. Would the purchase of this item enable me to change the entire menu to something unpallatable (possibly made by Jamie oliver) to help boost my own business?

A. Are you a Scooby Doo villain? Can I interest you in a theme park?

Q. Hiya!! i say im most interested!! but does this include TIME and PARADOXICAL events, i’d hate to win then find some snotty nosed
sprat won it from me when we were at School making silly bets!!
Thankz most awfully, all zee best!!!
Yours, Delusions Of Grandia

A. Don’t worry. All time is linear. The only way what you suggest could happen is if you existed at all points in history simultaneously. Only Bruce Forsyth can do that.

Q. Hi, God here (but my friends call me Jehovah). This listing was bought to my attention by Gabriel, what makes you think this is yours to sell? I created it a despite what the book says it took more than 7 days and i own the patent on creation as a whole. You will be hearing from my lawyers Lucifer & Sons and by the time they have finished you wont even have a soul left although if the bidding goes much higher i might consider splitting the money.

A. There’s quite a few of you claiming to be God and, quite frankly, that’s where all of humanity’s problems started.

Q. If the stars move around during transit will it affect my destiny? I’m a Cancerian and could do with making a few life changes.

A. I don’t believe in astrology. I’m a very sceptical person. Typical Leo.

Q. Paradoxically speaking, will the Universe fit in the back of my Galaxy?

A. Mind. Blown.

Q. Regarding your sale of the universe. The current bid is £112. If I was to offer £113 obviously I’m guessing you’ll not be including the part of it I already own. Therefore if we take the price as £113 and subtract of my property (less the total outstanding on my mortgage) would it be fair to just give me the universe and about £60,000?

A. I haven’t thought this through, have I?

Q. Does it include Life and Everything? If not, do you have them and how much? It’s Life I’m particularly interested in I really need to get one.

A. YOU need to get a life? I cannot throw any stones in that particular glass house.

Q. Sorry, you list its age as 13.7 million years old when I’ve got a very respected source next to my bed that says it is a little over 6000 years old. Can you please explain this discrepancy? And if you are in the right, does this mean I can start w*nking again?

A. If Brian Cox says it’s 13.7 billion years old, that’s good enough for me. Knock yerself bandy.

Q. Can you tell me the sell by date on the moon cheese please? Also, if any other planets are made of cheese it would be good to know their sell by dates too. I’ve been caught out before buying cheap products that are out of date.

A. There’s no such thing as moon cheese. That’s just silly.

Q. It’s not apparent from your description who the manufacturer is and thus where replacement parts/repairs can be obtained. Can you shed some light on this?

A. Confirming the manufacturer details in public would mean revealing which is the one true religion and, quite frankly, it’s not a competition.

Q. Does this item come supplied with the full compliment of dimensions necessary for operation? Don’t worry if not, i’m sure i can grab a few counterfeit dimensions from china.

A. We’ve hidden a 7th dimension somewhere. See if you can find where we put it. I think you’ll be surprised.

Q. Hi, could you confirm that you have the original blueprint and/or the V5 document. Also do you happen to have the Haynes manuel?

A. I don’t have the original blueprints or manual, but I’ll supply a Haynes manual for a 1984 Rover 213. The principles are pretty much the same except the Rover’s starter motor is a bit less reliable.

Q. How many previous owners ?

A. Depends on your theological outlook. For all we know, we could all be the figment of Charlie Sheen’s imagination.

Q. Do you know if there are any disputes with the neighbours? and do the Coal Board still own all the mineral rights?

A. I’d watch out for Universe #16453. It’s a real party universe.

Q. I’m having a hell of a problem with my onions this year. I suspect there is a better place to grow them, just the other side of Ursa Minor. Can you confirm that there is a planet there where the soil is quite sandy rather than just another of those bloody ice planets.

A. I know it’s a gas planet, but my advice would be Saturn. You’d produce some very good onion rings. (What am I doing with my life?)

Q. Is it in good condition or held together by string?

A. Any cracks have been packed full of “dark matter” (Actually, Marmite).

Q. Can you tell me the number of dimensions, something I’ve been wondering for some time? S. Hawking.

A. Think of the biggest thing you can. No, bigger than that…. No, bigger than that… No, bigger than that… No, bigger than that… No, bigger than that… No, too big. Start again.

Q. Is there a facility to switch off the inevitable Brian Cox narration?

A. If you win the auction, you will be able to limit Brian Cox staring meaningfully into the distance while stood on a mountain to once a week.

Q. How much would your BIN price be, strictly *without* Chris Moyles?

A. Personally, I can take or leave Chris Moyles. If you win the auction, though, you have to take him.

Q. Not sure about the expansion. It looks like it’s mostly empty space. What if I used a vacuum bag to store it? Would that damage it?

A. It may look empty, but it’s full of dark matter. And all at no extra cost to you, the consumer.

Q. I am a little considered that on becoming the owner of the universe a number of law suits might be made by its occupants on the basis that ‘its not fair’ , along with damages for earthquakes, thunderstorms, etc. Can you please let me know whether the seller is prepared to indemnify the buyer against all legal actions relating to previous ‘natural’ disasters. Of course any disasters after the purchase would rightly be the responsibility of the buyer.

A. I’d recommend you get yourself some good legal advice. Like these guys:

Q. I’m interested but I notice that you say buyer collects. Will it fit in the back of my hi-roof Ford Transit, or will I need to fold it in half?

A. Actually, it’s expanded a bit more since you asked the question. Might need a long wheel based Mercedes.

Q. Does this purchase include dominion over all living beings? – Liam

A. If you can get them to do a bloody word you say. Good luck with that.

Q. Is it possible to get any discount, due to the damaged caused by the likes of creatures such as Parallax?

A. You’re more than welcome to inspect it, but I don’t want any “tyre kickers”.

Q. Can you please provide the exact width and length so I can work out whether it will fit in the back of my car. It’s a Ford Fiesta, but it’s got plenty of boot space when I fold the seats flat.

A. Its constant expansion means you’d probably be better off getting a Transit.

Q. Before buying the Universe, I wanted to know, what type of expansion is present within the Universe, in that is it Open, Closed or Flat? I’d like to know as this could drastically affect the resell value of this Universe.

A. Oh… Erm… I’ll have to go and check the packaging. Or Wikipedia.

Q. Hiya – I am having a bugger of a job finding a present for the missus 40th quite happy to collect, but can you gift wrap it please?

A. What a lovely husband you are. Yes, I have some string theory that should tie it all together nicely.

Q. Would it be possible to courier this? I don’t have anything big enough to pick this up. Also, is there any guarantee? I mean, I don’t want it breaking down within a few days. Or exploding

A. The rate of expansion should mean that there’s no explosion. I’d keep an eye on Betelgeuse, though

Q. Is hell included in the sale price? Are you able to arrange a courier? 

A. By ‘hell’ do you mean Clacton-on-Sea? If so, yes.

Q. If I pay postage can you package and send? I know it says collect in person, but I am a really lazy person and would rather you did all the hard work and someone just plonked it on my lap. I am sure you have a box laying around it will fit in.

A. I once bought a memory stick from Amazon. The ridiculously large box they sent it in should be big enough.

Q. I’ll pay double if you keep Chris Moyles. Deal?

A. Sorry. I’m not splitting the items.

—————————————————————-

The next instalment of The Death Guide To Life will be on Friday. Yay.

The pain reminded Dave that he was alive. He did not know exactly how long he had been in the hospital bed, but the antiseptic smell had become familiar and the electronic pulse of the machines reassuring. He opened his eyes and saw a dark blur stood over him. For a moment, Dave worried that his new friend had returned to take care of unfinished business. The world swam and snapped into focus. Melanie smiled down at him.

“Welcome back,” she said, “How do you feel?”
“I am never drinking again,” Dave answered through cracked lips.
“Don’t say that. I owe you a pint. What was it like?”
“What was what like?”
“You know. They said you were clinically dead. How was the afterlife?”
Dave tried to remember that night, back to a time when he was between worlds.
“I don’t know,” he replied, “I think there were pork scratchings.”

Dave recovered quickly. His interior was ripped out, shifted, squeezed and re-shaped. The doctors were baffled by the fact that he had not suffered any permanent injuries. Melanie visited regularly. Dave sensed that she felt she owed him something, but he knew he owed her more. He had stopped her leaving this life, but she had brought him back. Soon, Dave was home and when his money and patience with daytime television had run out he drifted back to work.

Melanie looked over from her seat opposite Dave. “How’s it going with the Meyer project?” she asked.
“They’ve been better.”
“Is all not well in the Shire, Frodo?”
“I think we may have a very big problem with the systems upgrade.”
“Remember what Fiona says,” smiled Melanie, “There are no such things as problems, only opportunities to shine.”
“Okay,” replied Dave, “ I think we may have a very big opportunity with the systems upgrade.”

Dave clicked a button on his mouse and the printer behind him started to spew paper out. He pushed himself away from the desk and glided along on his chair. When he reached for the printout, his left foot brushed the floor.

“Gotcha!” shouted Melanie.
“What?” asked Dave.
“Your foot touched the ground,” Melanie looked at her watch, “You’ve got no lives left and there’s three minutes to go.”
“This game is so rubbish,” Dave sighed as he shoved himself back to his desk.
“It was your idea.”
Dave shook his head as his phone began to ring. He picked up the receiver. “UberSystems International… I don’t know about that, Mr Meyer. I’ll just need to grab the file. Please hold,” Dave pressed a button on the phone.
“Who’s got the Meyer file?”

Over the other side of the office, on another bank of desks, John (or was it James?) held the file above his head, an evil smile on his face. Dave looked from James (or was it John?) to a smirking Melanie and, finally, to the clock on the wall.

Dave carefully pulled his feet up onto his chair and, wobbling, stood up and onto his desk. He ran across and leapt onto a vacant chair. The momentum wheeled him across the floor until he reached the other island of desks. He jumped up and trod carefully between computer keyboards, telephones and notepads. He snatched the file from his stunned work colleague and span on his heel. Another leap back onto the chair and he sailed back across the ocean of stain resistant carpet.

His battered joints aching, he clambered up onto Melanie’s desk and stepped back over to his own. People began to applaud. Dave allowed himself a smile in his moment of triumph. He put his foot on his chair, but physics is a harsh mistress. The chair rolled away from under him and Dave slipped beneath the desk. He hit the ground hard, paper exploding everywhere.

Worried, Melanie jumped up from her desk. She ran around and pulled Dave to his feet. Crouched down, the two of them gathered up the filing together. She flashed him a smile.
“Very impressive.”
“Thank you.”
“I think you’ll find I’ve won, though.”

Their eyes met over a spreadsheet. A memory solidified out of the fog of that Halloween night. A promise Dave had made to himself.

“Do you want to go for that drink? You and me?” he asked.
“What? Like a date?”
“Not like a date. An actual date.”
The words hung in the air like subtitles on the paused DVD of Life.
“I think I’d like that.”

An office drone leaned over the desk.
“Dave?”
“Yes?” Dave looked up.
“Fiona’s office. Now.”
Dave looked back to Melanie.
“You go. I’ll take care of Meyer.”

Dave stood in front of Fiona’s office door. It was closed. As he knocked, he thought back to their last conversation before the accident.

“Come in,” Fiona called. A deep breath and Dave stepped in attempting to exhude a confidence he did not truly feel.

Initially, the view from the window commanded his attention. The stark lines of glass and steel brutally etched against the crisp blue sky. Below, the Thames snaked like a predator ready to entwine the city and consume it in its dark boiling belly.

Then Dave realised that Fiona was not alone. A middle aged man sat across from her. He was tailored to within an inch of his life and seemed to have been chiselled from some kind of tanned stone.

“Thanks for coming, Dave. I’m sure you know Mr West,” Fiona beamed. Conrad West. CEO of UberSystems International.
“Please. Call me Conrad,” West said. Though he smiled, his handshake felt like a threat.
“Good to meet you,” Dave mumbled.
“Take a seat,” West ordered, “Fiona and I are just finishing some business.”
“As I was saying,” Fiona grinned, “I took the initiative to crunch the numbers and, by my calculations, changing the vending machine suppliers and charging the staff for refreshments could save the company almost five hundred pounds a year.”
“Jesus, you’re so tight that you’d probably skin your own farts for the grease.”
“I’m sorry, Mr West?”
“Let them have their free tea and coffee,” West rolled his eyes and switched his attention to Dave, “I suppose you want to know why you’re here?”
“A bit.”
“First, I wanted to come down here to thank you for what you did to save Melanie.”
“Not a problem.”
“Not a problem?” West looked over to Fiona, “He throws himself in front of a car to save a fellow team member and it’s not a problem? I love this guy! But, anyway, I’ll get to the point. Fiona’s being re-assigned.”
“There’s a problem in Tokyo,” Fiona explained.
“Godzilla?” asked Dave hopefully.
“No.”
“It’s never Godzilla,” sighed Dave.
“Ha!” West barked, “Where have you been hiding this guy? That’s why we want to know if you’d be interested in moving into Fiona’s role? We need someone like you. Someone who can lead from the front. Someone who thinks outside of the box.”
“I think that if you always have to think outside of the box, then you probably need to get a different box,” Dave found himself saying.
“See? This exactly the kind of blue sky thinking that we need. I love this guy!” West slapped Dave on his bruised shoulder, “You wanna try Fiona’s chair out for size?”

Dave sat back in the expensive, ergonomically designed chair. Within the space of ten minutes, he had arranged a date and secured a promotion. Though he was disappointed that he had to die to begin to live, none of it seemed that complicated after all.

But you don’t have to make life complicated. Sometimes it can get that way all by itself.

8. Cheesecake Philosophy >

Dave Marwood was dead. This is not how he had imagined his evening would turn out.

He was sat in a pub having a drink with Death. Actually, Death was the one doing the drinking. Being a ghost, whenever Dave went to pick up his pint glass, his hand passed straight through it

The pub was tatty and so dark Dave was not sure where the barmaid’s nicotine stains ended and her fake tan began. Ignored by the customers, Death was just another drunk muttering to himself in the corner.

“This is the only night of the year when I can go out for a drink,” Death explained, “Halloween has become so commercialised now. You lot have forgotten the true meaning of the undead walking the Earth.”
As Dave concentrated on picking up the beer in front of him, he remembered his last living thought.
“I’ll be honest with you. I was expecting a tunnel of light or something. My life flashing before my eyes at least.”
Death choked on his pint. He wiped his unseen face with the sleeve of his robe.
“Tunnel of light? Load of rubbish. I got bored and held a toilet roll close to a few people’s faces while shining a torch down it. Do you want to see your life flashing before your eyes?”

Did he? Perhaps Dave could learn something from this. His past actions could give insight to his destiny. His old life as prologue to the story of his re-birth. Also, he might get to see Lisa Daniels naked again.

“Yeah. Alright.”

Death clicked his fingers and reality lurched to the side.

Dave found himself watching the Long Dark PowerPoint Presentation of the Soul. His achievements had been reduced to a series of slides smashed together with every kind of heavy handed dissolve, transition and clip art file. And written in Comic Sans.

Dave saw himself aged seven years old winning a cuddly toy from a seaside crane machine. Then time jumped forward ten years and he was successfully parallel parking a beaten up car into an impossibly narrow space. Then a fruit machine hitting the jackpot, coins cascading everywhere. Star wipe to Dave sat at his desk at UberSystems International. Late at night, he throws a screwed up ball of paper across the length of the office. It bounces off of the wall into the waste paper basket. Dave punches the air.

End of slide show. Click to exit.

“Is that it?”
“What are you talking about? That was a really good piece of parking,” assured Death.
“And nobody saw it. That’s the sum total of my existence?”

Dave wasn’t expecting much, but that was pitiful. He resolved to become a better person, to look at this second chance as a gift. He turned to Death to tell him this, but he was concentrating on his mobile phone.

“What are you doing?” Dave asked, “I’m having an existential crisis here.”
“I’m just updating my Twitter,” Death showed Dave the phone screen, “I am currently talking to the world’s most miserable man.” He pressed the send button.
“I am not the world’s most miserable man!” Dave objected.
“I’m sorry, but you must be. It says so on the internet.”
Dave never imagined that death would be like this. Tragic? Yes. Devastating? Inevitably. Annoying? Not so much.
“I am Death. I am merely a ferryman between your world and the next. I am not here to judge. I will mock, though,” Death looked at Dave’s untouched drink, “You not drinking that?”
Dave shook his head. Death picked up the glass and quaffed the contents with noisy gulps. He slammed the glass back on the table and let out a supernaturally long burp.
“I’m going to let you into a secret. Magic exists in your world, Dave. The way shopping trolleys stop at supermarket car parks should be evidence enough. Though their bags for life are a source of constant disappointment to an immortal being.”
Dave had no idea what to do with this information so just let him continue.
“If there’s one thing I’ve learned in this job, you always cut the blue wire, never the red one. Another thing is that life is hard. People are cruel. But remember that… Nope. I don’t know where I’m going with this. That’s it. Life is hard and people are cruel. But you have an untapped gift, Dave. You’re a good man. You could be the best.”

Death slid a business card across the table. Dave picked it up and turned it over in his fingers. Expensive, weighty and black. It was embossed with simple white text that said “1 CROW ROAD”.

Dave was aware that something important had happened here. The moment was heavy with expectation and promise. Then Death’s mobile phone began to ring. Dave had never considered what Death’s ring tone would be, but if he had ‘Uptown Girl’ would have been pretty far down the list.
“Do you mind if I get that?”
Dave shook his head and Death answered the phone.
“Steve speaking… Well, I didn’t agree that it was a silly name… Really..? I’ll be there in a minute.”
Death threw the phone back down on the table.
“Busy?” Dave asked.
Death let out a long weary sigh.
“I’m always busy.”
“How do you find the time to do it all?”
“Time is relative. In fact, he’s my cousin. Who owes me money.”
“Time travel?”
“It’s not time travel as such. It’s more that I exist simultaneously at all points in time. Or something. I wasn’t really paying attention. Quantum physics was put together on a Friday afternoon. That’s why humanity will never figure it out. Some of the bits are the wrong way round.”
An ambulance siren cut through the awkward silence.
“Sounds like your taxi’s here,” Death nodded towards the door.
Dave could feel himself being pulled from this place. The voices in the room grew dim and the walls faded like a memory. Before he went, Dave realised that he should probably ask at least one metaphysical question.
“Answer me this. What’s the one true religion?”
Death seemed disappointed.
“It’s not a bloody competition, Dave.”

Dave’s heart kicked in and he slipped into the warm embrace of life.

7. Heroic Failure >

Dave opened his eyes. He could not feel any pain. He could not feel the ground beneath him, nor the cold night air against his skin. The only sensation was panic. He remembered a TV show where a paramedic asked a road accident victim to wiggle their toes. This little piggy went to market. Dave went through all the piggies and their activities. Somehow, it was the world that was numb, not his body.

He pushed himself up onto his elbows. A fog had descended, reducing everything to a ghostly presence. He seemed to be alone. How long had he been there? Surely his friends wouldn’t have abandoned him?

The mists parted and a figure that haunts all of humanity’s nightmares glided ethereally towards him. Its black cloak absorbed the street light. The scythe in its hand glimmered with the memory of a thousand dying suns. This guy had really made an effort with his Halloween costume. The image was ruined, though, when he crashed to the floor like he had been shot. His feet waving in the air, Dave could see the roller skates.

“A little help, please?” the figure cried out with a voice like a polite killing spree.
Dave pulled himself up and helped the struggling and swaying man to his feet. He dusted himself down.
“Sorry about that. I was just trying something out.”
“Good night? Had a few drinks?” Dave asked slow and loud. He searched for a face under the cowl, but all he found was an all-consuming darkness that tugged at the loose threads of his being.
“Oh dear, Dave. This is going to be awkward. I am Death.”
Dave looked confused. Death pressed on.
“The whisper on the lips of the damned? The dark companion who walks in the shadows of humanity’s souls? But that’s terribly depressing. I’m thinking of calling myself something else. Steve, perhaps.”
Dave knew the words the stranger said were true. The shock hit him harder than the car, a punch to the gut that caused him to double over.

The Living World crashed down around him. Dave saw that a worried crowd had gathered around his own shattered body lying in front of the car. Gary frantically paced back and forth shouting into his mobile phone. Melanie, smeared with Dave’s blood, pumped his chest with her fists. She locked her lips over Dave’s in a kiss that he would never taste.

“What? I’m dead? But there were so many things that I wanted to do.”
“Really?” asked Death.
Dave wondered if it was worthwhile taking offence to things in the afterlife.
“Well, I hadn’t finished watching all my DVD box sets.”
“You’re not going to cry are you? Oh, I don’t like it when you lot cry.”
Dave decided that it was worthwhile to take offence to things in the afterlife.
“No,” he snapped.
“I shouldn’t worry,” says Death in what Dave assumed was an attempt at a reassuring tone, “This is what you Meat Puppets call a Near Death Experience. If it makes you feel more comfortable, I’m thinking of this as a Near Dave Experience.”

Relief flowed through Dave’s body in exactly the way that his blood did not.
“Oh. Right. Lovely. Sorry about the shouting. So, what happens next? Do we just…?”
“Pretty much.”
Dave was stood before Death. He could ask him anything right now. Questions on the fabric of space and time. Your past. His present. Our future.
“You know you’re a lot shorter in person?”
Death shrugged and nodded as if this observation had been regularly made to him since the dawn of creation. Death took a very expensive pocket watch from his cloak and examined it.
“Do you fancy a quick pint?”

6. How To Be Dead >

“Do I want to go for a drink?” Gary asked himself. He ran the unfamiliar sequence of words around his mouth to see if they were a good fit, “But ‘My Big Fat Geek Wedding’ is on. Your favourite. Footage of brides crying because they can’t find a vicar who speaks fluent Klingon.”
“But we never go out. We never meet new people,” Dave argued.
“You know my motto,” Gary replied, “A stranger is just an arsehole I haven’t met. And, anyway, we went out for your birthday.”
“That was a terrible night.”
“It was a brilliant night! We gave you the bumps!”
“You pushed me down the stairs!”
Gary sighed. He realised that the inevitable outcome from this would be Dave sulking for the rest of the evening.
“If you want to go out, I know somewhere holding a pub quiz,” he suggested.
Dave could feel the conversation slipping from his control.
“I’d be useless. I don’t know anything about pubs,” Dave said, “But my work is holding a Halloween party.”
A knowing smile broke out over Gary’s face.
“I presume that girl from your office going to be there? Melissa?”
Dave was prepared for this, but still tripped over his words. “Melanie? I think so. Maybe. Perhaps.”
“I knew it. I don’t know why you just don’t admit you like her.”
“I do not. That’s ridiculous. What makes you say that?”
“Every time you tell a lie an angel punches a unicorn in the face with a kitten.”
“I am not lying!”
“Whenever I bring this up, you react in the same way as when I ask if you’ve eaten the last biscuit. I’m not judging you or anything. All I know is that it’s been a long while since I had a custard cream,” Gary sighed, “We’ll go. What are we going to do about costumes?”
“We’ll get something on the way.”

Dave always ate the last biscuit.

And so Dave was back on the streets, surrounded by people so desperately trying to have a good time he feared they may burst a blood vessel. He and Gary stopped at the corner shop on the way to the tube station and had discovered their costume options were limited. Dave had found some flashing devil horns. Gary wore a pair of fluffy pink bunny ears because, according to him, both of them wearing the same thing would make them look “fucking stupid”.

“Dave!” someone called above the noise of the crowds. He turned around to see Melanie and an unimpressed friend forcing their way through the tide of bodies. Her face painted like a cat, Melanie teetered on high heel shoes.

Dave gazed at Melanie like Professor Brian Cox eyeing up a particularly thought provoking mountain range. He adjusted his devil horns to what he believed to be a jaunty angle. ‘Can devil horns ever be jaunty?’ Dave thought to himself. ‘Yes. This is the area to focus on right now.’

“Nice devil horns. Very jaunty,” Melanie said, “What are you up to?”
“Oh. We’re just on our way to the party,” Dave shrugged.
“UberSystems International endorsed employee focused entertainment set between pre-defined boundaries?”
“I can’t get enough of it,” he smiled sheepishly.
Gary cleared his throat. Dave supposed he was asking a lot to hope to avoid introductions.
“Melanie, this is my housemate Gary. Gary, this is Melanie.”
“Hi,” said Melanie, “This is Sarah.”
“Pleased to meet you,” said Sarah, her tone of voice indicating that she was nothing of the sort. The four of them began to walk in silence. Dave decided to blunder blindly into the world of small talk.
“So how do you two know each other?”
“We went to university together,” said Melanie.
“Now she’s crashing with me since she and her loser boyfriend split up,” Sarah continued.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” Dave lied.
“Don’t be. We’d been drifting apart for a while. He was… well… He made things complicated, shall we say? He tried to make an effort at the end, but it was all too little too late. As opposed to his bedroom proficiency, which was too little too early. Clitoral stimulation? Give it? He couldn’t even spell it. I’m not entirely sure why I told you that. I may have had a drink.”

Dave opened his mouth a few times. He was slightly relieved when Melanie stumbled over on her ridiculous heels. But she continued to stagger and she slipped off of the kerb into the road. Dave saw the oncoming headlights. He heard the brakes squeal. He instinctively stepped into the glare and shoved Melanie out of the path of the oncoming car.

Everything was a blur. Sound. Space. Time.

Then. Stillness.

Dave felt the wet tarmac beneath his broken body, a rag doll thrown by the petulant child that is chance. He was surprised by how uneventful his last moments were. There was no tunnel of light. Nothing flashed before his eyes.

With as little fuss as he had lived, Dave Marwood died.

5. Afterlife >