Fate Called Me A Pussy

Chapter 15

The waiting room was cramped and smelled like death.

Probably because everyone in it was dead.

I sat in a corner seat, trying to not directly stare at anyone. I wasn't sure if it was rude to stare in the afterlife, so I decided to stick to the safer option and keep to myself. I reached into my pockets and felt a cold bottle of hand sanitizer, smiling to myself a bit. At least I can fend off germs.

I was lucky to have a seat since the room was crammed full with deformed dead people. Mostly elderly folks, who treated the room as if it was nothing more than the pharmacy and they were just in to refill their many prescriptions. Every once in a while you can spot a younger person. One with a nail in her head, another with a bruised neck.

I sat between two men. One, a middle-aged fellow with a shrunken face had his hand down his pants, apparently having the time of his life. The other, an old man with wrinkled, leathery skin who was keen on making conversation with me.

"Where are you from?" He asked me, scanning my probably extremely bruised face.

I squeezed some of the blue hand sanitizer onto my hands, surprised that I felt no stinging even though my palms were cut up. "My mother's vagina. What about you?"

He grinned, his cracked lips bleeding a bit. "Maine. From a small farming town west of the Canadian border. Not as exciting as your mother's vagina of course."

"Oh. you've been before?" I inquired amusingly.

The man sitting to my left looked up from his crotch in the interest of our conversation.

"I heard about the tourist buzz from some colleagues and decided I would have to tour it as well, just to make sure my colleagues weren't lying about how grand it was." The old man replied, earning a laugh from the shrunken faced man.

I stifled a laugh as well. "And was it as grand as you were told?"

"No, it was much too humid for my liking."

I laughed, slapping a dislocated knee. If my mother found out I was making jokes like this, I would die.

Again.

The old man checked his watch, grumbling about how long he's been waiting. "I almost miss the nursing home's service."

I nodded, checking the number that I took from the machine earlier. #596 was in big bold letters. Lifting my eyes to the number being displayed on the monitor, I sighed. #4.

This was going to take a while.

"So." I leaned towards the old man. "How did you die?"

The old man shrugged. "I died of a heartbreak."

I frowned, pushing some bloodied hair out of my face. "Oh. Did your wife die before you did?"

He smirked placing a hand over his chest. "Nah, I had a heart attack. My heart broke."

"That sounds lovely." The middle-aged man to my left muttered, back to having his hand wedged in his pants.

The old man scrunched his eyebrows together, looking past me. "And how did you die then, if a heart attack is more ideal to you?"

"Cancer. Penile cancer to be exact." The man solemnly muttered, looking back down at his genitals. "Haven't been pain-free in a while."

I nodded in understanding, having had members of my own family that have suffered with cancer. Then again, doesn't everyone? Before I could say anything, the old man answered for me. "I'm sorry, but I'm glad the pain is gone."

The middle-aged man nodded, before twisting his head to face me. "And how did you die?"

A pale nurse pressed the button on the counter, #5 is called up next. An elderly woman pushed through the crowd towards the desk, discolouration dotting her hips and her lips chapped like two pink raisins stacked upon each other.

"Well- that's a long story," I admitted, looking down at my hands.

The old man laughed, the crimson light from the red lamps shimmering on his sweaty skin. "Well we have a lot of time, do we not?"

I mean, he has a good point. "Brace yourselves for boredom."

"I highly doubt it."

Both men leaned towards me, interested.

I took a deep breath. "It all started when Fate kicked me out of bed...

I was sleeping deeply when she broke into my room like some sort of G.I. Jane. She wore grenades strapped over her chest and a ripped, green t-shirt was wrapped throughout her hair. If you guys have trouble imagining what she looks like, just imagine the epitome of batshit crazy.

"James Imperial." She called to me as if I was getting called down to the office for god-knows-what.

If I'm being honest, I probably wouldn't be here, deader than a doorknob, if I would have just been respectful to Fate.

"Mama, I have no school today. It's winter break..." I yawned, rolling back over.

Suddenly, the blankets were yanked off of me. "I am not your mother, I am an ethereal being! I am Fate herself! You will rise, James!"

Just like Simba in the opening sequence of The Lion King, Fate lifted me by my collar and held me up high. This was when I actually woke up and realized I should watch my mouth.

Okay, I'm kidding. That realization won't happen for a while.

"So... Fate, was it? Have you ever heard of breaking and entering?" I inquired, looking back down to see how high up I was.

Scrunching her greying eyebrows together, Fate hissed. "Have you ever heard of shutting your fucking mouth?"

I thought about for a second. "I think I've heard of it once or twice before. Never thought of doing it though, didn't seem like my kind of thing."

Fate winded back her abnormally long arm, then slingshotted me like a bloody cabbage into a wall. The ethereal being towered over me as I tried to hoist myself onto one elbow, my nose gushing blood like a volcano.

The old man interrupted my story, poking me in the shoulder. "And Fate, why was she in your bedroom?" He asked, his mustache scrunching as he talked.

"I'm getting to that part, just you wait. Anyways, so I am down after a hit from Fate and the worst part of it was that my mother started knocking on the door."

I quickly rocketed from the ground as Fate jumped out the window like a suicidal divorcee. Meanwhile, my mother bashed on that door like a motherly orangutan does on a tree trunk that their baby is stapled onto.  

"James, you better not be having relations in there!" My mother screeched like a bat out of hell. 

I swiftly surveyed the room, mostly concerned with how to get my blood off the wall and out of my white carpet. If my mother saw this she would pass out, having some sort of blood phobia. I didn't want to spend my first day of winter break in the hospital after my mother passes out-and upon awakening- calls an ambulance.

So I hid the blood from my mother.

Another thing that if I didn't do I would have survived.

"Mama, It's just me in here!" I locked the door, shouting back at my mother.

She huffed and jiggled the doorknob. "I heard a large bang! If you do not open this door right now I'm calling the police!"

Yes, that's my mother. Always going from 0 to 50 in under 3.26 seconds. If emotions were an Olympic sport, she would win gold each and every time. I do not want to know how she is handling my death, since I can guarantee it isn't well.

"Mama, I accidentally knocked over my lamp. I'm very sorry that it scared you and I will try to be more careful next time." I breathed, slowly backing away from the door.

And right into Fate.