Snoring off my Aprés LIVES

Hold on! I MEAN…

STORY OF MY AFTERLIFE

 

Starting HERE

 

Total blackness.

I awoke in a closet. Or what I thought might be a closet. And I thought that I was awake… but I wasn’t too sure.

Somewhat gingerly, I felt my face. It was still there. This was good.

Hmm.

I ran my hands over my body. There were some radical puncture wounds and more than a few incisions in my chest and abdomen (not that I knew what CHEST and ABDOMEN were. Just guessing, really), some more under my arms, and one or two in my neck. These places were tender- some agonizingly so- as I, very tentatively probed them. But… after I did so? I guessed that I was still me. Sort of. I mean, whoever I was.

I felt my head (still attached- this was also good). Then I felt my arms, my groin (ooh! wait now! that felt nice!) and on to my legs and feet. I felt my groin again just for fun, but thought I should probably stop doing so. For now, at least.

Then I began to feel around my environment. I was covered with a blanket and beyond that I didn’t know what to think. Hmm.

I wrapped the blanket tighter around my apparent nakedness, and reached out. Here was a carfboarg-a CARDBOARD- box. And another. There a stack of papers, and further away what felt to be a muff. No. Not a muff. I mean MOP.  Yeah. A mop, alright. And a BROOM. A dustbin too. Some lightbulbs still in their boxes. Some bottles of, I don’t know. Maybe… cleaning fluid? Wax? Probably not water. I resolved not to drink any.

I raised myself up until my knees were beneath me, marvelling at the stabbing pains and aching which thankfully subsided after a minute or two.

Now that I was done feeling ME (I’d definitely return to my groin region later. I made a note of this) I felt around further. There was- lo! and behold!- the back of the closet. Or maybe the back of a small store room. (What’s the difference, I thought, between a closet and… Never mind that now, you twip. I mean twit. Jesus.)

And before me, there was a door. With a doorknob.

I grabbed the doorknob and very slowly pulled myself into sort of a half-standing, half-crouching position. My knees wobbled a bit for a few seconds, then I continued my search, feeling this bucket and that waste bin and shelves, until I croaked- or somehow vocalized…

“Yeth. A croset. I mean,” here I cleared my throat a bit, “a CLOSET. Dephinably- scratch that- DEFINITELY this is… A CLOSET!”

Proud of myself, although I had the only the slightest inkling of who, or what I might be really, and what I was here for, I stood fully. My knees shook, but was I most definitely now, standing eblect. ERECT, meantt. I like that word. It made me think of my groin again. Hmm.

“I now STAB. No.. I now STAND! before you, and slalomly- solemnly- attune, no! Not attune. I soddenly (SOLEMNLY) ATTEST! That I am stamping- dammit!- STANDING, in a Croset. I mean… a CLOSET!”

A thought struck me and I began to feel more and more frantically around the walls until I found- Lo! Behold! A LIGHT SWITCH.

Dare I switch this light switch ON? I wondered to myself. I mean, whoever- WHOMEVER- has placed me in this croset- goddamit! CLOSET! might well want me to not turn it on.

Hmm.

And then I remembered- Steph. Oh my God, STEPF, I mean STEPH! And Max. And I grew very, very sad.

“I wubber- WONDER- where they are. Wie… WHY… did they go to the trouser- TROUBLE- of placing me hear… I mean HERE?”

I began to weep. But only for a minute. Then I began to… giggle. First a little bit, then I broke into uproarish laughter (which sounded like a cross between snuffling, croaking and barking. With a bit of wheezing thrown in… but hey! It got the job done!)

Steph and Max ruled! They HAD to be okay. Simply must. Be okay.

I hoped.

My laughter subsided and I reached again for the doornut- DOORKNOB, goddamit. I was suddenly very worried for Steph. And Max.

I turned it slowly til I heard it click. I very cautiously, and very circumspectly (how did I know this word, CIRCUMSPECTLY? This warranted a moment’s contemplation, which I finally ended with another “Hmm”), I pushed the door open a crack. (I like that. “Crack”. Another very good word to remember. I reached down to my groin to cop a celebratory feel. Nice.)

And as I pushed the door open a crack, I immediately heard, coming from out there, and all around me

AUTO-FUCKING-MATIC WEAPONS FIRE

A LOT of AUTOGNOMIC WEAPONS FIRE. I mean AUTOMATIC WEAPONS FIRE! and it was coming from fucking everywhere!  The World was Endive! I mean, ENDING! Jesus. Everyplace  Out There, that wasn’t In Here, in this crozet- CLOSET, goddamit! was absolute toast.

Everyplace outside of this closet was replete with, completely filled with, Endtime Insanity!

Punctuated by….? The distinct detonations of grenades, C-4, I.E.D.s. Grenade launchers! Maybe even Bazoukis. I mean… BAZOOKAS!

Hoary ship!!!

Something hit the ground outside, rattled up to the door, and stopped. It… it was a… GRENADE.

A roar. Jesus, I thought as I flew backwards from the inward exploding door, will I have to learn everything all over again?

Then darkness was back.

One more time with feeling, Maestro.

 …

Mary Gregory got out of her Prius. She had had enough coke- My God- she had fucking snorted enough to kill a small horse! But she did chew a few more Oxy’s to ripen her mood, and maybe settle her down a bit- as she marched through the front doors of Very Advanced Cryogenics.

A woman at the front desk looked up, startled by Detective Mary Gregory as she walked past the front desk, following Dr. Avery Clarke III down the corridor as he walked on oblivious that he was being followed, and ready now for one monstrous confrontation with this whoring Oncologist jerk. Onward they went,  towards the office of the director, The ReAnimater himself. Whom Mary had never heard of.. .but she was also willing to take down his sorry ass too.

“I’m with Doctor Asshole,” she called over her shoulder to the receptionist, who blinked for a minute, then scrambled to place a frantic call to her supreme Boss of Bosses. And also to Dr. Dierdre, the bitch of all holy bitches.

A Very Big Night was Now Taking Shape.

Somehow those fuckers had found the garage.

Had they fixed a beacon on Max’s van? She hoped not, because that would have lead The ReAnimator’s Attack Force to County/U.S.C., where Jacek had been hospitalized and, one hopes, lay in Intensive Care recovering from a very intense abdominal wound, caused by gun-happy security types back at the ol’ ReAnimation Complex.

Jesus.

As Max detonated the first of many front line defenses, in this case a set of very nasty Binary Explosives, and they retreated back to next corridor, it struck her. They had placed a tracker inside of ME (Yes. I am still telling this story, goddamit. I’m the fucking Omniscient Narrator, okay? I may be stuck in a broom closet figuring out Who or What and Where I am, and what I’m doing here, I will continue to INFORM you. So deal with it.)

“So that was what the little module I removed from behind his ear! The one she had, with bright hindsight, stuck in a petri dish and shoved in the Refrigeration Unit for inspection later, instead of crushing pronto under her Doc. Marten goddamit. Oh, well. Live and learn.”

But she was still pissed at herself as she covered Max with well-placed bursts of withering return fire, as he bolted over a set of garbage cans that had been packed to the gills with gelignite.

“Time to move into the tunnel. Make it snappy, okay girl?”

She accommodated him, sliding down the escape hatch.  Max dove right behind her, into the pipe leading down to the Sub-basement. They barely had time to cover their ears. when…

THE WHOLE FUCKING WORLD EXPLODED

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