Wednesday, August 7, 2013

There Won't Be Clean Panties in Hell

We knew we were dead. You and I had been standing in line for a hundred and fifty-seven years at the checkpoint where the dead are admitted to the non-living world .  You busied yourself smoking cigarettes, and I busied myself wondering about the children- yours and mine, both.

Some stowaways from the living world were always trying to sneak in, so everybody had to be looked over and checked off the list before they could enjoy one moment of the afterlife. I complained that it seemed to be taking forever, and somebody up ahead warned me against advertising those types of opinions. If the souls in charge heard me, they'd bump me to the back of the line, and I'd have to take you with me, since you were my "afterlife buddy," whatever that meant.

Once we were approved, we began to understand the differences we were facing. We had our bodies and our personalities, but little else. The living would fade in and out. We might see a glimpse of them at the strangest moments, but for the most part, they remained obscure.

I have an eccentricity about clean underwear. I must have them at all times. Even in the living days, I spent far too much money maintaining a certain level of newness in my panty drawer. The problem with the non-living world is that you have to scavenge for the items you want to hold on to. New panties...not easily found.

You followed me around, teasing me about my craziness, but I located a chest of drawers, and the top drawer was chock full of  pressed, white bikinis. I thought I had hit the motherload, but as I pulled them out, I noticed a stain on each and every pair. I tossed each to the side, and when I reached the bottom of the drawer I turned to you and declared that we must be in Hell.

"We're not in Hell," you insisted, your Green Eyes twinkling. "Not if we're together."

My heart started beating in my chest, and I had to look away from you to hide my face and the realization that nobody had ever said anything so sweet to me until just that moment. I collected myself and thanked God that he had stuck me with you for the duration of Eternity, but even in Eternity, I couldn't openly commit to an attachment to you.

"Well then... I must be in Hell," I told you matter-of-factly, pointing to myself. For a half a second, I wanted to retract those words, but you being you, they slid right off. No worries.

"You're so full of shit," you told me as you spun me into your arms. "You know you're loving this."

Tuesday, August 6, 2013


We'd been told to pair off by drawing names from a jar. Half of us wrote our names on a slip pf paper and the other half were supposed to blindly reach into the mouth and call out what it said there. This was the way it had been played before, and there had never been any deviation from the method. Rules were rules.

You demanded to go first, insisting that you would be my partner. I smiled coyly and wished you luck, never thinking you'd get me. The odds were definitely against you. I was holding for out for Old Green Eyes, anyway.

But you always get your way, even in my dreams.

One by one, you rejected each person you drew.

"Not Nessa," you stated before tossing  each name to the side. "Not Nessa. Not Nessa."

Finally, you grinned when you found the one you'd been looking for. "Nessa!" you shouted triumphantly. You waved it in the air as you came to my side. "I told you I'd get you," you whispered into my ear and planted and kiss on my cheek. "It's fate."