Titanic 2: Electric Boogaloo

Chapter 1

The afterlife

The lights were dimmed in the dance hall aboard Titanic, and the floor was virtually empty save for one angel pianist one couple, Jack and Rose. The pianist was playing Beethoven's Symphony Pathetique, 2nd Movement. The graceful and calm music, mixed with the faint sound of the crashing of the waves outside and some seagulls made for a peaceful and relaxing dance.

They said not a word. They just held each other and swayed with the music, feeling at peace. Until finally, Rose spoke up. "Jack?" she said, "May I ask you something?" "Of course, Rose." Jack replied, "You can ask me anything." "Well..." Rose started, "Do you suppose...do you suppose it's possible to have children in Heaven?" Jack wasn't sure how to answer that. "I...I have no idea," he replied, blushing. "I guess...there's only one way to find out."

"Ask one of the angels?"
"Um...yeah that's what I meant."

They both giggled knowing damn well that's not what Jack meant. The pianist stopped playing and turned to them. "I'm sorry," he said, "But I couldn't help but overhear you, I wanted you to know, it is in fact possible to have children here. And children who are born in heaven become angels. He or she will grow up just like a normal human being, at least until 25, at which aging ceases, and then they choose a profession and become a full fledged angel."

Jack and Rose were ecstatic to hear that. "Thanks for letting us know," Jack said. "You're welcome," said the pianist, then he returned to playing Beethoven. Jack and Rose laughed. "Then let's do it," Jack said. "Maybe not in the back of someone else's car this ti—" Rose stopped in the middle of her sentence. In fact, everything had stopped.

"Rose?" Jack asked. Time had stopped. Rose was frozen midsentence, the pianist had stopped playing, and outside, the waves were paralyzed, and seagulls were suspended in midair. "What the hell?" Jack said to himself. Suddenly, his head felt like an axe had gone through it. Jack cowered and groaned in pain as the world around him spun, going faster and faster until everything was a spiraling blur, the pain in his head getting worse and worse until he couldn't help but let out a seemingly endless scream and then—

"POOPIE TRIM!" Jack yelled as he woke up in a startle on a shiny metal lab table, wearing nothing but a very thick pair of underpants, and having an odd needle in a vein in his left arm connected to a bag with a clear liquid in it. "Good, you are awake," said a voice to his right that had a thick African accent. Jack glanced over and saw a young dark skinned woman in a white dress with her hair in a bun. "Where am I and who are you?" Jack asked, speaking very frantically. "My name is Shuri," the girl said, "You are in Wakanda, and you have been dead for over one hundred years."