Not much of anything has ever been able to stop Jonathan in his tracks, prevent him from doing anything. Not anything, barring the garbage truck that cut him down in his prime - twenty-six - as he ran across the street without looking, pursuing his escaped axolotl. Six months back.
Being dead ain't so bad. It has its points. But he's forgetting what it's like to be alive. The sensation. The fear, and occasional elation. The ability to make a million mistakes.
Being dead - heaven - is like being in kindergarten. Always someone to hold your hand - coach you through everything - everyone singing in unison, from the same hymn-sheet. Literally.
Everything is safe. Certain. There's no way to fuck up.
Jonathan hates it.
YOU ARE READING
Ghost Dick
Misterio / Suspenso"I knew it was gonna be one crazy day, when the dame walked into my office. Through the wall. From next door's deli storeroom." Jonathan P. Rissole has been dead for six months. And he's finding it a real yawn. Clouds, harps and angelic babes ar...
