Playing Dead

Car plus young boy plus speed equals a messy conclusion. Not that I felt anything, I was dead at the time. I'd already been 'flung' out of my body. I was happily sitting in a tree watching my own physical self fly through the air, somersault several times before sliding into the kerb with a sickening crunch. Even I felt sick at the sound.

Then, of course, there were the screams. Piercing screams. The kind that can melt plastic at 100 yards. Hands covered eyes, some necks craned to better see my crumpled and lifeless body; people came running out of houses to see what the commotion was about. It was just like the movies.

No one was watching the car, no one watching it drive off into the distance, leaving only a faint trace of rubber on the asphalt. It looked like a good 60 feet of skid mark. If it beat the fifty-foot skid left by the car that hit Carter back in 2002 then I'd be remembered. Unfortunately, for me, Carter survived, although he does still piss into a bag and eat through a straw.

Neither of us was going back to school. Some kids would die to never have to go back to school. There was an irony there.

I didn't want to see myself get scraped from the floor and placed on a trolley, wheeled to the morgue, stripped and tagged. I didn't like the cold, so I wasn't about to visit the freezer compartment at the hospital.

I didn't know how much time I had. I was expecting the tunnel of light any moment. I didn't think they would wait for night to descend; a member of the public would easily spot any tunnel of light. I hadn't read the Bible, but I had enough knowledge from watching Ghost to know that it comes fairly quickly after death.

I realised I was on the run from Heaven, God, wherever it is we get taken. For a split second, I considered that I might be asked to complete my homework by a deity. That would be way scarier than my mother. And, it was double mathematics.

I ditched my bag in the tree and clambered down through the branches to the ground. I took a quick glance at the crowd that had gathered around my prone body, listened for the inevitable emergency service sirens and headed off in the opposite direction at pace.

I was feeling mischievous. Oh yes, death had its good side.

The first place I went was round to Barry's place. Why? Have you never seen Barry's stepmother? Oh, are you in for a view of a fine piece of woman.

Barry had always promised us a look at his Mum. She was 15 years younger than his father and was only a few years older than Barry. We'd all lusted after her and I was about to get the best view. No one would believe me, but I didn't care – this wasn't about looking cool at school.

You can tell that I'm not the best at poetry. Being dead makes it easier to accept your own foibles, let me tell you.

I was in luck. When I arrived at Barry's place, he wasn't home and his Mum was busy in the bedroom with one of her regular visitors. Barry's Dad knew about this, but he forgave her each time; his need for a trophy wife was worth more than the humiliation of having everyone know she was banging anything that had a pulse and was near her own age.

Barry always refused to answer the question of whether he'd been propositioned, or better still actually become a motherfucker. I remember the time that comment got Lester a black eye, but one almighty belly laugh.

Being dead means everyday objects, such as stairs, doors and walls – fuck, everything really – don't get in the way. Not one bit. I was able to float up to the bedroom window and peer through the gap in the curtains. I could even float through the wall. I was about to get the glimpse that would have made being dead so much better to handle when the house fell away from me at frightening speed and I was blinded by a bright light.

I was being sucked up that darn light tunnel. So much was I looking forward to getting to see some full-on action that I'd forgotten about the fucking tunnel. I'd always thought the movies were lies, fiction, but it turns out that they're telling the truth.

Where the fuck is my Demi Moore? At least Patrick Swayze got his piece of the action before he was hauled away and given a shiny coat to wear, I hadn't even got to see a nipple.

I sat down in the tunnel and let it pull me skywards. I couldn't see out, the light interference was making seeing anything difficult. I wasn't in a good mood, so if this did lead to God, boy, was he about to get some shit from me. If it wasn't bad enough that he'd let me be killed by a speeding driver – a hit and run no less – it was unforgivable that he think it a good time to drag me away from my final experience of life on Earth.

I was sulking and that was that.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, I was delivered to a platform, in front of which was a desk. Sat at this desk was a man. He didn't look like God. Okay, never having met the Man before, I was basing this decision on hearsay, but even so, this man was clean shaven.

"Welcome to Heaven," the man boomed, even though he didn't appear to be moving his lips.
"Bet you didn't know that's the name of a Gay nightclub in London?" I countered.
"God moves in mysterious ways."

Well, he was a sarcastic bugger. I'd give him that.

"So, what's the legal drinking age here? And, does everyone smoke reefer? Cos, if not, I ain't staying."
There was a chuckle from the man in front of me. I waited for more, but he just sat looking at me.
"Hello?" I laid on my most sardonic attitude.

Still nothing.

"Okay, show me to my cell and I'll be a good boy."

That chuckle again. I couldn't tell what this was all about, but being dead had prepared me for some weirdness.

After a time, the voice spoke again.

"Welcome to Heaven," it said. "Normally, you'd be asked a series of questions, each correct answer giving you more points with which to spend in the afterlife. It's Heaven Spent, a game show idea we had some time back, but we couldn't get any of the networks to take the concept, so we use it in-house. Those that don't get more than half of the questions right we send down the Devil."

What the fuck? This was surreal.

"Anyway, we aren't going to ask you. You've been brought here for completely different reasons. Sorry about the car. Jesus has never got the hang of a manual transmission. It was easier with donkeys."

This was getting way out of hand. Would I be sent to the Devil?

"We like you. You're funny, naughty. Basically, we like to watch you."

"Paedophiles," I whispered under my breath.

"I heard that," the voice came back. I glanced around for the hidden cameras and microphones, but everything was bathed in the light. I thought about asking how much their electricity bill was, but thought better of it.

"Sorry," I mumbled.

"Anyway," the voice continued. "We brought you here because we want you to be the new star in the next blockbuster show for television. It's a lucrative contract and we'd make sure you were well looked after."

Suddenly, I was listening and listening hard.

"What's the wage? Holiday pay?"

"We'll come to that later, but you can expect it be more than you've ever dreamed of."

That was good news because I was dreaming of millions per episode.

"Here's the deal, listen good."

"I am, so get on with it, I've got money to earn and burn."

The voice sighed and I heard the distinct sound of thunder.

"Was that thunder? Do you get storms up here?" I asked.

"No, that was me. I was clearing my throat. You humans, you crack me up. Okay, here's the deal. You are to play dead, that's it. We are going to film your family as they recover from your brutal murder by a drunk driver. Don't worry about Jesus; we've got a good lawyer for him. He'll get off on a technicality."

I raised my eyebrows.

"We'll give you a life back, whatever you want you can have. Drugs, hookers, money or fame, whatever you want is yours. However, in return, you have to be reunited with your family when your mother and father die, which I can tell you will be in about 20 years, give or take a day. I've got them booked in two weeks apart. How's that sound?"

I admit that I was taken aback slightly. I was 15-years old and this wasn't a decision I could take lightly. I mean, my parents were going to die 20 years from now and I'd have to die too, again. Dying once was bad enough, but to have to do it all again before my time, well, that was almost too much to take. Then again, there were hookers, fame and all the drugs and alcohol I could take. It was a hard decision, but I think I made the right one.

"Okay, I accept. However, I just wanted to know one thing. If I didn't take this on, what would be my questions to get into Heaven?"