Real
Live
Dead
Things
By
Emma Idiot
© 2015
Cheshire Grin Publishing All Rights Reserved. No part of this book
may be reproduced without the expess written consent of this
publisher.
Chapter
1
Mortimer had always been the
kind of teen who grabbed life by the horns. “Carpe diem” had
always been his own personal motto. (Not because it meant “Seize
the day,” but because guys who could talk in other languages seemed
to turn girls on.) He lived every moment as if it were his last…
so, it was a great shock to him when one day… he woke up dead.
“I can’t be dead,” he
snapped at the airy figure beside him.
“You are,” she stated
flatly.
“Well I just can’t. How
do you just be alive and breathing one minute and dead the next?”
he snapped.
“That’s usually the way
it happens,” the ghost girl sighed. “But in your case there was
an exception made.”
“What do you mean?”
Mortimer grumbled.
“You were breathing fine
until you got hit by the train,” she said.
“But why would that happen?
I loved life.”
“Yes,” said the figure,
“but you also loved getting drunk and playing chicken with trains.”
“That was just a bad
habit,” Mortimer winced.
“Yeah, most bad habits
kill,” the girl said, now coming into focus.
“So, is this heaven?”
Mortimer asked looking around.
“Does this even look
remotely like heaven?” the girl asked smoothing down her now-white
hair against slight shoulders, and Mortimer offered, “For a ghost,
you’re a hottie.”
“Keep your mind on where
you are!” the girl snapped. “Does this even look remotely like
heaven?”
Mortimer looked around.
Packing crates filled the corners. Cobwebs hung from a tin overhead
lamp with only one of its two light bulbs working. It sent shadows
perpendicularly across the walls and floor making everything look a
little too rectangular. Boxes marked Café Cola lined one wall. At a
table filled with expired milk cartons, a fat, greasy man sat
changing expiration dates.
“No, but then I’ve never
been to heaven. It could look however it wants to,” Mortimer
reasoned.
“It’s not heaven, you
troll,” the girl remarked.
“Y’know, heaven looks a
lot like the backroom of Ed’s General Store and Gas Station,”
Mortimer gasped.
“That’s because this is
the backroom of Ed’s Store,” the girl snapped. Mortimer looked to
the fat, balding man sitting behind the table. He used his plump leg
to keep the rickety thing from tipping the expired milk onto the
dusty floor.
“Wow! God looks a lot like
Ed!” Mortimer squawked.
“I hate this job…” the
girl began.
“Oh, holiest God,”
Mortimer said bowing.
“That’s not God…” the
girl snapped.
“Oh, Lord over all
creation…” Mortimer chanted.
“That IS NOT God!” the
girl’s voice boomed, and at the pitch of it the glass that the man
had been drinking Café Cola from burst into shards sending the
sticky drink down the front of Ed’s black trousers. The man jumped
to his feet sending a string of curses across the storeroom.
“God curses?” Mortimer
asked as he watched Ed wiping shards of glass and soda from his
pants.
“No. Don’t make me scream
at you, moron. Glass shatters if we raise our voices,” the girl
explained.
“God looks like He peed
Himself now,” Mortimer said, “Hey, how comes God looks like Ed?”
“That is ED!” the girl
tried again.
“Oh, holy Ed, Lord over
Café Cola and gas pumps,” Mortimer chanted.
“You idiot! ED IS NOT GOD!”
the girl screamed, and the last light bulb in the storeroom burst,
leaving them in the dark.
“Gee, heaven sure is a lot
darker than I thought,” Mortimer said.
N
“Try to get your pea-sized
brain around this idea," the ghost girl, who had introduced
herself as Eva, said very slowly.
“Okay,” Mortimer replied
just as slowly.
“You’re dead.”
“I’m dead,” he
repeated.
“Now, you have a job to do
before you can move on,” Eva said, rolling the words out just as
slowly.
“A job to do before I move
on…” Mortimer repeated.
“You must change someone’s
life for the better,” Eva’s voice dragged over every syllable.
“Someone’s life for the
better,” Mortimer repeated and added, “And then the holy Ed will
let me move on?”
Eva began to stomp her feet
and pull at the white out-line of hair that adorned her head.
“You act weird,” Mortimer
pointed out. “You’re pretty temperamental for an angel!”
“I’m not an angel. I’m
your guide. I’m a ghost just like you, and if we don’t change
someone or something for the better, I’m doomed to spend eternity
with you,” Eva snarled, her voice breaking.
“So, we’re together
forever?” Mortimer asked.
“It looks that way, from
where I sit,” Eva answered, seemingly about to cry.
“Hey,” Mortimer yelped,
“Eternity with a hottie. Things are looking up!” He tried to
slide his arm around her waist but quickly pulled his arm away.
“OUCH!” he shouted, and
the little storeroom window cracked.
“Burns, huh?” Eva asked,
almost laughing.
“Yeah, burns like…”
Mortimer began to curse but nothing came out.
“We can’t touch each
other, curse, smoke, drink or eat,” Eva announced.
“But those are my favorite
things,” Mortimer whined. “An eternity without all that? I wish I
was dead!”
“You are,” Eva answered.
“Right. So, what now?”
Mortimer asked.
“We find someone to
change,” Eva answered
“How about Ed? He’s been
cheating his customer’s for years.”
“Leave the holy Ed alone,”
Mortimer snapped. “He’s a good guy. He pays me time and a half
for Sundays.”
“He sells rotten milk and
groceries,” Eva pointed out. “People get sick.”
“No, they just make a lot
of returns. Except that weird guy with the pet llama. I think he
secretly likes spoiled milk.”
“Well, it’s still wrong.
You would be doing the community a service if you made Ed honest,”
Eva pointed out.
“If I can’t touch him,
how can I do that?” Mortimer asked.
“Write it down,” Eva
said.
“I thought we couldn’t
touch anything,” Mortimer snapped.
“We can’t touch each
other. You can touch other stuff. Take that permanent marker over
there… you can touch that.”
Mortimer floated over to the
desk where the date stamper lay by the milk cartons. The holy Ed now
stood on the rickety table trying to change the light bulbs. Mortimer
picked up the magic marker.
“Wait until the light is
on,” Eva advised. “He can’t see anything, yet.”
“Right,” Mortimer floated
to the other side of the room and waited by the wall. When the lights
flashed on, the holy Ed went back to stamping the milk cartons. He
took no notice of the missing pen.
“Get his attention!”
Mortimer urged Eva. The girl looked around and picked up a banged up
can of lima beans. She tossed it in Mortimer’s direction and it
landed with a crash near the wall.
“Blasted rats!” the holy
Ed snapped, as he looked at the can rolling across the floor. The fat
man’s mouth dropped open, however, as he watched a marker floating
uncapped in mid-air. The thing moved to the wall and began writing in
bold, black letters, “REPENT YOUR SINS AGAINST MILK KIND!”
“Milk? Milk is holy?” the
holy Ed asked the blank air. He fell to his knees and began to
worship the milk cartons before him.
“Oh, great spirit of the
milk, forgive me my sins. I shall make as an offering a golden milk
carton for all to come and worship you!” and then the holy Ed ran
out of the back door.
“Great!” Eva snarled, “We
turned him into a pagan!”
N
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