The weight starts to press into my temples as I pull out
another jug and sit at the table facing the door. The crash had happened two
years ago and I still shuttered every time I thought about my fourteen day migraine.
Oddly, I didn’t die while I lay curled in the fetal position praying for death
while the pain liquidated all thought and left me vulnerable.
The door opens and closes. My current tenant takes a seat
and forlornly says “I’ve been dead for two weeks. Did you know?”
I take another belt of whiskey and feel it slide down my
tongue through my throat along my chest and into my stomach. My gag reflex rises
in the back of my throat and pulls at the contents of my gut, but since the
crash I’ve been getting used to shitty liquor. I held my gorge back with some
effort and a grimace.
“Yeah, I thought that might be the case when you walked
through the wall instead of using the door a couple of Saturdays ago.”
He stared at me with a dumbfounded look. “Why didn’t ya
mention that before ya asshole?”
“I assumed you knew you were dead. I’m not the kid from the
Sixth Sense. I don’t care if you know you’re dead or not. I like you either way
roomie. I think you should be happy that you are here and able to keep doing
what it is that you do and not going to Hell or where ever you’re going. Keep
up your end of the bargain and I’ll keep up my end. You’re getting an awesome
deal here.”
I take another pull from the jug. It’s getting easier to
keep the white dog down even if the taste hasn’t improved. My headache grows with
the effort to keep him manifest and calm. I reach up and remove my glasses so I
can rub my eyes. He stares across the table with that lost look and starts to
sputter about life, death, and “it” not being fair. I put my glasses back on,
take a deep breathe, and smile my best smile. It’s going to take some work to
convince him that the bargain is worth fulfilling.
Being a programmer isn’t useful in a world where electricity
is unpredictable, but a pick-up artist with a penchant for the water of life? Let’s
just say the dead are more willing than any lonely soul in a bar ever has been.
