That One Night [2]

[...Posted by Ted H]

Yup. This is still happening. All month long, baby!

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[That One Night]

So yeah…I just died.

* * * * * * *

“Great story,” Teto said sarcastically.

“Fuck you.”

“What? You died. You said it yourself. What happens next, your trip to hell?”

“What would you do if I said yes?”

“I’m leaving.”

“I died, yes. But I didn’t stay dead.”

“So, what, you’re a zombie?”

“No. I came back, normal and everything.”

Teto was skeptical and annoyed. Could I blame him? He was losing interest fast and becoming annoyed that I had him come out here only for a story, a bull shit story at that. Time came for me to do something drastic. Apparently, telling him when he was going to die wasn’t enough. I needed to tell him something he can confirm. “Wait!” I called as went to leave.

“You skipped dinner,” I said “Bought a bag of 99 cent popcorn, white cheddar, at a gas station. It had expired last month but you knew that when you ate it.” Teto stopped and looked back at me. “Want to go to your car and bring me the bag?” I continued “Because you left exactly six pieces and one unpopped kernel.” Teto’s eyes shot open as if I had been in the car with him the whole time. “How did…What the…You can read minds?” he finally asked.

“I’m extremely perceptive,” I said “I could smell it on your breath and the information kinda presented itself to my mind from there. If I had something to write on, I’d write when you would finally eat the last six pieces, down to the second, even write where you are when you do it. Seal the paper and have you open it when you finally do eat them, all so you can further shit yourself in awe.”

“No thanks,” Teto said, a bit uncomfortable now. Perfect. Time to keep pushing. “Your sister is calling,” I said calmly. Teto pulled out his phone to see but his phone did nothing. Before he could say anything I held my hand up and said “Wait for it…” then waited a few seconds before I snapped my fingers. Not a split second later, his phone rang, and sure enough, it was his sister.

Teto walked away and took care of the call. When he returned I was ready to put the K.O. on him. “She’s upset that you’re out in the middle of nowhere for no reason while your mother is sick. She’s thinking of taking her to the hospital and wants you home pronto.” Teto was about to say something, but couldn’t get a word out. He looked like he could use a bag to vomit in. “Don’t worry though,” I continued “She’ll live. She’ll actually outlive you by a long shot. Three hours, five minutes and three seconds from now your sister will call back and you’ll have an argument where she‘ll needlessly bring up the time when-”

“-Stop!” Teto shouted. “How do you know this?”

“Not too sure. Like I said, the information presents itself to me.”

“You’re psychic?”

“Not exactly. Well, not intentionally. Certainly not when I knew you before.”

“When did it happen then?”

I smiled. “I was just getting to that.”


* * * * * * *


People wonder what it is they see when they die. Usually what they have are all questions. “Is there really a white light? Is two minutes in hell really a lifetime? Are you God?” I didn’t see shit, except more white. Maybe I shouldn’t have been staring into the white light so long, or maybe atheists were right in saying there’s really nothing to look forward to when we die. I always thought it would suck if they turned out to be right.

Just as I began to get swept away in my mind, I started to wonder if my mind was all that was left of me. I couldn’t see my body, assuming I still had it. I figured if I concentrated hard enough something, anything might happen. I was feeling very sporadic at that moment and couldn’t concentrate on anything though. Like I had smoked too much weed and was now spaced out as hell, getting lost looking at the ceiling while sitting back on a recliner, drooling all over myself. Hell, for all I knew, that was exactly what I was doing right now.

Just then however, I felt myself drop to the floor. So much for the weed theory. I was in a square lavender room with walls that moved around like that shit in lava lamps do. Apparently I had a body because I could feel myself get up and when I did, I was face to face with the most well endowed black haired beauty of a woman I have ever seen in my entire life…or death. Complimenting that fact was the fact that she wore a leather dominatrix outfit that revealed everything, with her arms kept behind her as if to invite me to look all over her, which I eagerly did. A few minutes later, when my eyes finally reached her face, she smiled and said in the most seductive tone “Whatever happens, make sure you concentrate on me at all times.”

If this was the afterlife, I would’ve killed myself a long time ago. I was about to get physically acquainted with this pillar of seduction when she gasped and her gaze shot off to her left. Instinctively I followed and saw what appeared to be a floating yo-yo until it morphed into a computer mouse then again morphed into a freaking bookshelf. It continued its floating journey until is disappeared into the lava lamp wall.

-Right…Why the hell would there-OH SHIT! She said to-

Before I could finish that thought I turned my head back to the naked beauty, only to recoil in horror at what she became. Right before my eyes she gained 200 pounds, easy. Hair started growing in all the wrong places as her boobs made the tragic shift from double Ds to man boobs. In case you haven’t caught on, she turned into a fat, hairy man wearing the same outfit. To complete the horror, the hair on his head fell off, because the only thing more terrifying than a fat, naked, hairy man is a fat, naked, hairy and bald man.

A 12 inch flaccid monster of a penis hung down from him as he giggled in the most appalling fashion, raised his hands, wiggled his fingers and started approaching me. Instinctively I backed up, not wanting to get raped by this sin against nature. My asshole also clenched shut so tight, I doubted I’d ever even fart again let alone shit, though the prospect of even needing to shit after death was an interesting question despite the circumstances. I also pondered if I could pull off committing suicide even after death.

-Dream-This is a fucking dream! Good lord its getting hard-NO! There has to be a way to change her back or something-Concentrate-Wait, that’s it! Don’t concentrate! Divert attention before he gets you! Aw shit-think. THINK! Birds, trees, harpoons, light bulbs, guitar picks, Ben Franklin, the Bat-mobile, squirrels, lawn chairs, rocket launchers, HGTV, Radio Shack: You‘ve got questions, We‘ve got answers, Beetle Juice, Beetle Juice, Beetle Juice!!!

My brain felt like it was going to implode. I had thought all of those different things almost simultaneously, but when I looked up there she was, back in all her nude glory. I silently vowed never to think of anything else ever again as I took her in my arms and prepared to pound her like a sledgehammer. Before I could, unfortunately, she held up an apple in her hand.

Not feeling like being diverted twice, I ignored it and kept all my actions and focus on her until the apple started ringing like an alarm clock. Not to be outsmarted, I kept on diverting my attention from it until it started talking like Sarah Palin as it said “Stevie here wet the bed until he was 13 don‘t cha know!”

-How does Sarah know? Wait-!

“Lies!” I screamed as I turned my head towards the apple Palin-

-And I was back on the floor in my doorway, drool cold in my mouth as I felt the stagnant blood in my veins start pumping again. I could literally feel myself resurrecting, which was odd since I didn’t exactly have a previous experience to precedent this, so I have no idea how I associated that experience as, in fact, resurrection. I guess I’ll ask Jesus the next time I see him. When I did get up, I could confirm one fact, but I also had one huge question.

First of all I could confirm that yes, you do massively defecate yourself when you die. It’s a warm feeling, but extremely uncomfortable when you get up and everything dribbles down your pant leg. Despite this shitty situation, I was more concerned with the question of precisely how long I had been dead. No one ever visited me so I could have been rotting in this doorway for a few minutes, couple days, hell even a month. I lost all track of time when dead. How long was I in the lavender room? Didn’t matter now, what was important was that…was that…well, I was completely lost at that moment, so my next move was a bit ambiguous. Seriously, I had just been dead. Technically, I shouldn’t have to do anything anymore.

After stretching the rigormortis out of my arms, I picked up my cell phone and checked my recent numbers. Lovely, neither Marshall nor my death call showed up. Maybe they really didn’t happen. Maybe the calls were all in my head, something my brain imagined before it shorted out. In retrospect, I should’ve thought about going to the hospital at least, but I opted for the more insane idea. I decided to go downstairs to find out if Marshall really was coming, and if he was, if he could give me any answers.

First however I grabbed my duffle bag and made for the bathroom. After cleaning myself and changing pants, I made for the stairs and down I went. All the while I had hoped that I imagined Marshall, the girl, and the dying and that nothing was going to happen. That I just needed to sleep and everything would be ok again. I figured I’d put off dropping out and just turn in for the night. The last few events had been more than I wanted.