It didn't take long for my coffin to become cold and uncomfortable. I had been inside the pine confinements of the box for quite some time, though I wasn't sure if it was for a few hours or a few days. The truth is, I was quite the novice at being dead.
I wasn't entirely dead, of course. I mean, my bodily functions were completely shithouse, and I wasn't breathing or anything, but my soul, for lack of a better word, was still lingering. When you're a stiff, you have no real conduit to your body. You're totally dependent on your thoughts. It's boring as hell, to be candid. There I was, six feet under, unable to think of my own name, for Jesus' sake. I couldn't even recall how I had died. I did have a clear perception on what it was like to be alive, though. I could tell you that George Washington was the first president of the United States, or that McDonald's was a thing. Hey, maybe I was a history major, or had diabetes. But I couldn't remember my own name. Being dead was starting to piss me off.
At first, I thought my soul was simply waiting to be collected. I mean, hey, people die all the time, right? God's gotta be a busy guy. Or if I considered his malice counterpart, I knew Satan probably had the same issue, if not more so. I figured the devil was just a lazy bastard, though. I pictured him smoking a cigar, playing a few hands with the guys down in Hell. "Eh, I'll collect the souls for eternal torture next week," he'd say. But after some more thought, (I was really getting pretty intimate with my thoughts. Whoever I was on Earth didn't do a whole lot of that) it occurred to me that maybe that was all there was. Just me.
In a box.
For eternity.
I was about to commit suicide when I thought of that. I was bored out of my mind in that damn coffin.
It was when the stress of my mid-death crisis started to take over that I heard a sort of thump. If I was still attached to my body, I'd have had a stroke. Before the disturbance, I had been surrounded by total silence. The thump was followed by another, only louder, and this time my casket moved slightly. I wanted to puke. I was nervous as hell, and I had a gut feeling (ha) that the fruition of my death and soul being collected had arrived. When the lid would fly off, I'd be greeted with either a celestial light that illuminated a staircase to the pearly gates, or a face of doom would consume me. Kill me now, I thought.
But nothing happened.
I waited.
There was something else, faintly.
A voice. Although it was somewhat muffled, I could make out the words.
"You again?"
Who again?
"I told ya, North Western Hemisphere is mine to collect souls from on the first Sunday of the month."
"Listen, Grim," an even closer-sounding voice began, "I already busted the lock. Let me at this one."
The first voice wouldn't hear of it. "Like hell I'll let you at it. My commission's been down 11% because of you, Luce, you know that? 11%."
While the first voice, presumably named Grim, continued his tirade, the closer guy unscrewed one last bolt of my coffin and lifted the lid.
"And you know what-" Grim stopped.
I froze. God, I felt naked.
Satan gave us both a complacent grin.
"Jesus, now you've done it," said Grim.
Don't ask me how I knew the guy who busted my coffin was Satan, because he was a travesty of the red imp accessorized with a pitchfork that I grew up knowing. He looked like a regular guy. He had a jacket.
And pants.
The devil wore pants, not prada, contrary to popular belief. And Hollywood.
"I'm Lucifer," he said to me.
I shit myself. Almost.
"And this is my good pal, the Grim Reaper."
"Good pal my ass," Grim said. He stood on the ground above the hole in which I was buried. He looked like a regular guy, too, but taller, and he wore a suit. He was even handsome, I thought.
Before I could say anything, not that I would've known how to introduce myself anyway, Lucifer shut the lid. I almost yelled something stupid like, "hey, let me out!"
"Still want him?" That was Lucifer.
"You're damn right I still want him," Grim said. He was sort of a grouch. I couldn't quite figure out what it was they wanted me for, but I had a pretty good idea. Somehow, I found the courage to speak up.
"You guys could flip a coin."
Satan himself and the Grim Reaper were arguing over my soul and the first thing I suggested was an honest to god coin toss. Jesus, I was an asshat.
The lid came flying off again. Satan was crouched near the foot of the coffin. He examined me. Not in the way you'd expect the devil himself to- by reaching into the depths of your soul with his fiery glare- but in a contemplative kind of way.
Grim looked into the hole with disgust, like we were some kind of idiots. I tried to the think of the situation from his perspective. We were definitely some kind of idiots.
Grim broke the silence. "That is the stupidest thing I've ever heard in my life."
"Sure," Lucifer agreed, "but the kid's got something there. Plus we never have any fun on the job anymore, Grim. What's a coin toss gonna hurt?" He began to search his pockets.
"You're not serious," Grim said. "If I don't get this soul, it's my ass. You hear me? The boss has been firin reapers like no tomorrow."
Lucifer wasn't listening, though. "Hey, kid, mind if I check your pockets?"
"Who, me?" I said stupidly. Trying to rectify that statement, I nodded consent. I figured it was unwise to disagree. As he reached into the pockets of the suit my body wore, I didn't know whether to feel invaded or not. For the first time, I was looking down at my body, rather than from it. I didn't even recognize the guy. I appeared to be in my mid-thirties, and if you're wondering if the old tale that your hair keeps growing after you die is true, it is. I had some stubble and was strikingly handsome. I decided not to let Lucifer's lacking concept of a dead body's space bubble bother me. Besides, I thought, the devil seems like a nice enough guy.
Somehow, Lucifer produced a nickel from my pants. I don't know much about morticians, but I'm pretty sure mine were slackers.
"Alright, Grim," Lucifer smiled, "heads or tails?"
"For Jesus' sake, Luce."
"Come on. Humor me."
Grim shook his head and sighed. "Heads."
I watched apprehensively as Lucifer shook the nickel in his cupped hands. He was really enjoying himself. Just as he was about to set the coin on his palm, I spoke up without thinking. "Wait!" They both looked at me.
"Oh for crying out loud, I haven't got all day," Grim said, clearly irritated.
"What's the rush?" Satan teased, "you're never in a hurry like this, you got a date or somethin?"
Grim averted his eyes. "Maybe."
Lucifer caught on. "Ahhh, that it, huh?" He grinned. "You hear that, kid?" He looked to me again. "Grim'sg got himself a dame. No wonder you're all slicked out in that suit, huh Grim?" Lucifer pocketed the nickel absentmindedly, seeming to have lost interest.
"God almighty, Luce, just hand the kid over so I can get outta here."
"Not to interrupt," I interrupted, "but where exactly will I be headed to when you guys uh, decide who gets me?"
Lucifer waved his hand dismissively. "It's all the same place, kid. We're just the deliverers. Stingy ol' Grim over here's got more money than he can fit in a damn zoo, but he insists on takin every last case I get." He turned his face back up to the reaper. "But now I see where he spends his earnings. Would ya look at that suit." He whistled provocatively.
"Alright, enough," Grim said. "Give it here." It being me.
"Fine, fine," Lucifer surrendered. He shook his head with mock disapproval. "The stingy bastard." He winked at me.
"So, am I going to.." I could hardly bring myself to say it. Boy was I a goose. "..hell?"
Lucifer guffawed at that. Even old Grim cracked a smile. "You souls are all the same," Lucifer said. "You ain't goin to the incinerator kid, breathe a little."
I didn't allow myself any relief, though. "Well, where am I going then?" I asked.
Lucifer smiled at me.
"It's a shithole the same way Earth is, now let's go," Grim said.
"Ay-ay, captain," Lucifer saluted. "Can't keep your date waiting." He reached into the casket and grabbed me.
I should probably describe what it's like to be a new-born dead person. You're pretty a much a ball. I couldn't move on my own, and my thoughts were my way of communication. I'd like to think my soul was glowing, but when I asked Grim sometime later, he said I emanated about as much light as a rat's ass. Nice fellow, that Grim. I was eventually assigned a death body to get around in, though. A corpse if you will.
Lucifer passed me to Grim. "Say, he said, "that date of yours have a sister? We could do that double dating business, whatdya say?"
Grim rolled his eyes. "Even if she did, she wouldn't look at you. How long've you had that jacket, Luce? It's disgusting." Lucifer looked hurt.
"My nana gave this to me." He examined his jacket. It was pretty vile.
"Well I'd stay and chat," Grim said, "but I don't want to." He tucked me between his arm and hip, like a basketball. It was demeaning, really.
Lucifer climbed out of the hole and brushed some dirt off the knees of his pants. He looked at the ground thoughtfully.
I sort of liked the devil, to be honest. I tried to remain indifferent, though, in case there was still a chance I could make it into those Pearly Gates to see the big man. I'm not talking about Santa Claus, either.
Without any further salutations, Grim turned and began to walk away. I glanced back at Lucifer, who was smiling at some private joke.
