Frequently Asked Questions About Being Dead

There is no white light.  There are no deceased loved ones greeting you.  Instead, there is a stack of pancakes, or maybe a deer, or maybe just a bored bureaucrat asking you to fill out a customer satisfaction survey.  As if dying weren't bad enough, the afterlife seems to be about as exciting as filling out a tax form.  Worse, sometimes the bureaucracy of the universe screws up and tells you that your death was all a mistake and it would be sorted out shortly, and, in the meantime, would you mind patiently waiting as a ghost?

Such is the experience of McAllister Mac Rose in Frequently Asked Questions About Being Dead, a humorous fantasy, in which she, not comforted at all by such an assurance and assisted by a bumbling Question Dude, must try to find her way back to life on Earth as a war in Heaven begins.  The novel satirizes conventional notions of life after death, positing that after one dies, one encounters a Question Dude who asks one to fill out a customer satisfaction survey before escorting one back into the general chaos of the universe.  All runs well until some of the Question Dudes start questioning the system and decide to set up their own private Hell to punish those souls that they consider undeserving of being recycled back into the energy of the universe.  Into this situation, a librarian who died by mistake wanders in, setting into motion events that will involve a mad monk, a former slave who likes to punch sharks in the nose for relaxation, and a slacker who died when his bungee cord was itself slack, among other characters.

Frequently Asked Questions About Being Dead is the third novel by Wred Fright.  The other two are The Pornographic Flabbergasted Emus and Blog Love Omega Glee.  More info about the author and his books can be found at Wredfright.Com.

Praise for Fright and his works from fellow writers, literary critics, and scruffy publications:

[A]n innovative writer of fun new pop lit--a pioneer in the fight to revive American literature - American Pop Lit

Wred Fright writes with the wit and cynicism of a modern day Berkeley Breathed, but his vision of our future is much closer to the world of Zippy the Pinhead than it is to Bloom County - Crazy Carl Robinson

[I]nfinitely preferable to the eye-glazing 'literary fiction' shoveled out by the bigger publishers - Daniel Green

I can't wait to read the next one! - Eddie Willson

Wred Fright is one of the best pseudo-fiction (maybe even just fiction) writers that I’ve ever had the luck to stumble upon - James McQuiston

[A] complete joy to read - Razorcake

I found myself laughing out loud a number of times, and that's a rare occurrence - Zine World

This novel is for mature readers, though those mature readers can be kind of immature in that they enjoy fart jokes and whatnot.

This is a work of fiction.

Copyright Fred Wright 2017.

Published by Frighty LLC.

Frequently Asked Questions About Being Dead

by Wred Fright

 For those who have gone before and for those who soon will be going

McAllister Mac Rose was looking at her corpse when a giant stack of pancakes holding a clipboard asked her, Excuse me, but would you mind taking a customer satisfaction survey?

Mac turned from the automobile wreckage and gazed upon the six-foot-tall stack of pancakes, a continuous fountain of maple syrup cascading from the top pancake onto the ones below it, ending in a pool on the white plate underlaying the entire stack, the kind of plate that's been through the dishwasher at the diner so many times that it started to wonder if that was all there was, an endless cycle of stickiness, soapiness, wetness, dryness, and stackness.  A huge glob of butter, shaped and glistening like the sun, sat on top of the stack with the clipboard, a pen dangling from it by a string, firmly lodged in the middle of it.  In Mac's head, she heard Beach Boys melodies that she had never heard before.

She felt like screaming, but, instead, she said, What?

Eyeballs popped out of the syrup, Oh, you're really freaked out.  What do I look like to you?  Jesus?  Sometimes, I get bored and set my appearance to random.  Let's see.  OK, I'm pancakes.  I bet I'm delicious, but I'll change into something else.  Maybe that'll help.  You want a burning bush?  Grim Reaper?  Elvis Presley?  How about a unicorn?  Most women like unicorns.

The stack of pancakes changed into a unicorn.  The clipboard was now speared in the middle by the horn.  Is this better? the unicorn said, looking around at itself, the pen of the clipboard flying about every time its head moved.

No, Mac said, her green eyes starting to tear up, No, it's not.

Why not?  I'm a unicorn.  You don't like the color?  I can be pink.

No, it's not the color.

The unicorn turned pink anyway, except for the horn which turned a type of fluorescent green usually only seen in the neon signs of pawn shops and payday loan businesses.  What do you think? it said, but Mac had already turned away to look some more at her corpse.

The unicorn trotted up next to her and also looked at the corpse.  The front of the car that Mac's corpse was in looked like it was a map that someone who didn't know how to fold up maps properly had folded.  In the midst of the badly folded-up folds was Mac's corpse, with a cell phone still clutched in her right hand.  Ouch, the unicorn said, Were you texting?  I don't know why people do that.  Most people drive badly enough as is.

Mac ignored the unicorn, who, undaunted, went on to say, At least the tree looks all right.

Mac looked at the tree that her automobile had crashed into and had to agree.  The tree did look all right.  It was a big oak tree and probably would survive the accident with just a few scars on its bark.

Mac, alas, did not look all right.  Nor did she feel all right.  Nor would she ever be all right again, she suspected.  At least I didn't hit the deer, she mumbled, as she slumped against the remains of her car and slid down to the ground, her hands covering her face.

I'd tell you to go ahead and just hit the deer next time, but there won't be a next time, said the unicorn as it changed into a buck, the clipboard caught in its antlers, Now, how about that survey?

Mac lifted her hands from her face.  They came off streaked with blood and some of her dirty blonde shoulder-length hair, dirtier than usual from car and tree debris.  Survey? she said, I'm dead, and you want me to take a survey?

Standard operating procedure, the buck said, then sniffed the air.

He approached the wreckage and stuck his head in it, his antlers passing through and mingling with the wreckage, Hey, I think you're still breathing.

What? Mac jumped up and looked in, following the buck's lead and not letting the physical dimensions of the car hinder her close look.

Oh my God!  I am breathing, she said, Quick!  Call an ambulance!     

The buck shook his head, Ah, I hate when this happens.  I got dispatched too soon.

Mac tried in vain to grab the phone in her corpse's left hand.  But it not only slipped through her fingers, it also slipped through her hand and remained firmly in her body's grasp.  

The buck said, I'm pretty sure that you're not supposed to be dead yet, but either way everything's going to be all right, dude.

All right? Mac glared at him, I'm dying.

She looked down at herself and waved her hands, I'm a fucking ghost or something already.

You'd be amazed how many mistakes the universe makes.

A librarian, Mac wondered where in the Dewey Decimal Classification this completely fucked-up situation would fit.  

Suddenly, a giant cellular phone appeared on top of the wreck.  It rang what sounded like an old spiritual.  On the incoming call screen, it read Zachary.

Ha, ha, the buck said to the phone, What are you doing here?

The phone texted and displayed, i m bored what else?

I thought maybe Dolores sent you to check up on me already.

The phone clicked into speaker mode and spoke with a booming voice that sounded as if the speaker were auditioning to be a play by play caller for a old time baseball team, you know, the type of guys who wear handlebar mustaches and think the game has gone downhill since Honus Wagner quit playing, Dolores?  My man, I avoid Dolores, as much as she can be avoided.  No, I have some time off, so I thought I'd see what you were up to.

Working, the buck pointed at Mac by turning his head and using his antlers, I think we've got another mistake.

Oh, man, do you have to go running after every charity case in the universe?  I was going to see if you wanted to have some fun, but I can tell you're going to be obsessed with fixing this, so forget it.

Mac shook her head, turned away, and started yelling for help.

Man, your mistake's making a lot of noise.  She's giving me a headache.  I'll help you out, bro.

The phone dialed a number.  Mac felt a great shock and collapsed to the ground.  

Maybe I should have asked her if she accepted the charges first, the phone said, Get it?  Accept the charges?

Yeah, I get it.  I 'collect' what you're saying, the buck said, That really wasn't necessary though.  She was acting exactly how one would be expected to act given the situation.

Ah!  You're too sympathetic.  Most people are morons.  What was she doing, texting? the phone hopped off the roof, which was fairly impressive given that it had no legs, and looked inside the wreckage, Just get it done and get them into the hole.

The buck turned into a giant kangaroo and hopped over to Mac.  Sorry, it said to her and put her in its pouch.

The kangaroo hopped back to the phone and said, I suppose you're right.  Thanks.  Zapping them does often makes things easier when they're freaking out.  I hate to do it to them though.  It slows things down and then I have to wait for them to wake up before I can finish the survey

"Ah, it takes way longer when you just let them run around freaking out.  Sometimes I just zap them for fun.  I love it.  Zap!  It don't hurt them anyway.  You're too nice.  Just process this stuff, you know?'

Yeah, I know.  I just always try to imagine myself in their shoes.

I don't think hers will fit your big paws.

Ha, ha, ha, the kangaroo said, sarcastically and bouncing on each ha.

Well, you better hope Dolores doesn't catch up to you before you get it sorted out.  I bet the corpses are piling up already.

I know.

A giant kangaroo?  That's the best you can do?

I like kangaroos.

I know you do.  We've hung out in Australia enough.

You want to come with me?

To Australia?

No, to figure this thing out, the kangaroo said, looking at Mac in its pouch.

And help you navigate the bureaucracy?

Exactly.

Are you crazy?  I get enough of that stuff when I'm working.  I'm not doing it on my time off.

Yeah, I figured, dude.  You said that you were bored, so I thought I'd ask though.

I'm bored, not crazy.  You're the crazy one for caring about this stuff.  Just kick her into the hole.  No one's going to care or notice.  Well, maybe Dolores would, but she's going to be even more irritated that you're running around trying to fix it.  We got a civil war about to break out, and you're messing around with this stuff.

There's not going to be a war.

What do you think that meeting's about?  And I know the answer, even if you don't, but answer me anyway.

I don't know.  Probably just an excuse to get together and party.

You only think that 'cause you've never been to one.  They're boring, but they're always about something big.  I remember the one during World War II when they announced that no one was getting time off for the next few years.  That sucked.

I don't know.  Getting to see World War II firsthand would have been cool.

Man, I don't even know why I hang out with you.

You're bored.

Oh, that's right, the phone laughed, a booming laugh that sounded somewhat like distant thunder, and turned into a large man wearing overalls.

Anyway, I better get started.  This could take awhile to fix.

I'll hang around.  I got nothing better to do anyway, the man shrugged, then tried to kick a piece of debris but his foot went right through it, Shit!  Sometimes I think I'm still living.  Old habits die harder than people do.  I still don't know why we can do everything but touch things.

I could turn into a part of the wreck and you could kick me, the kangaroo said.

Nah, that's all right.  Thanks though, the man poked his head in the wreckage, I don't know how the hell she's breathing after driving into a tree.  Hey, you ever hear that joke about Marc Bolan?

Which one?

Which one?  How many fucking Marc Bolan jokes are there? the man poked his head out of the wreckage.

I don't know.  T. Rex is kind of popular.

The music may be popular, but this is a joke, not music.  I'm going to go out, pardon the pun, the man looked at the tree the car was now a part of, on a limb and say you don't know it.  So what was the last thing Marc Bolan ever said?

I don't know.  'Pass the drugs.'?

'Pass the drugs.'  That's real funny, man.  You should definitely hit open mic night at the local comedy club so they could boo you off stage.  No, that's not the last thing he said.

Then what was the last thing he said then, Zachary.

Forget it, man, it's not going to be funny now.

No, seriously tell me, I want to know.

You really want to know?

Yeah, I really want to know.

OK, it's 'Who put that fucking tree in the middle of the fucking road?'  Ha!  That's a good one, huh?

Uh.

All right, all right, I see you're already fixated on this case.  Just wait a few minutes.  She's probably going to die anyway, and your problem's solved.

Sirens sounded in the distance.

OK, maybe not, Zachary said, I still say you should kick her in the hole.  Then she'll die.  No problem.

Dude, I can't do that.  Wouldn't you want to live if you could?

Zachary looked into the wreckage, Not like that.  She's going to be all fucked up.  Look at her face.  Who's going to date her?

They can do wonders with plastic surgery these days.  She might end up looking even better than she did before.

Zachary looked at Mac's body and said, It'll be a miracle if she can look better than she does now.  Just let her die, man.  To recover from this would be very painful.  It would be better if she were dead.  Sometimes the merciful thing is just to let them die.

How many of these cases have you actually handled?

A few.

Name one.

Uh, shit, I don't remember, man.  It all blurs together.  I don't pay much attention to work.  It's just work.  Who gives a fuck?  You get it done and then you go have fun.

Well, rumor is that they're becoming more common.

That's because things are getting fucked up.  There's going to be a war, man.  That's why you can't worry about stuff like this.  The war could break out at any time.  Just dump her in the hole.  Hell, I'd even skip the questions and just get it over with.

No way!  She's still breathing.  We have to give her a chance.  I'd want that.

Not me.  Man, I had enough of living when I was alive.  This is a lot better.  When I'm not working, I can go anywhere in the world.  I'm not stuck on a plantation needing a pass to go take a shit in the outhouse.  Shit!  Remembering the smell of the outhouse is enough to make me glad I'm dead.  I remember being able to tell from the smell who was last in there.  We ate the same things, so I don't know why some of them smelled so bad, Zachary said, adding, Plus I couldn't change into a giant lizard when I was alive.

Zachary changed into a large dinosaur and stomped around the forest making boom noises with his mouth anytime he took a step.

Being able to change into Godzilla is pretty cool, but I'd rather be alive, dude.  I mean this beats . . . you know . . . but it's still not as good as being alive.

The dinosaur shrunk down to human-sized, but stayed a dinosaur, looking like a guy wearing a costume filming a monster movie, and given that he was talking to a giant kangaroo, perhaps the sadly never made Godzilla Invades Australia And Fights Kangaroo Kong, You only feel that way because you died young, bro.  If you had lived longer, then you wouldn't think being alive is so great and be always running after these charity cases.  I was old when I died.  I was ready to go.  I didn't feel good too often.  And I was poor my whole life.  That sucked.  Plus all the Jim Crow shit.  I was ready to go.

Well, she's pretty young, the kangaroo said, looking in its pouch, What would you say, late twenties?

The dinosaur looked in the kangaroo's pouch, Hard to say from all the blood.

The dinosaur reached in the pouch with his left hand and slipped his left index finger through the blood on Mac's face.  He tasted it.  Early thirties, I'd say, he said, Plus she's pregnant, bro.  Pretty early.  She might not even know.

Shit!  As if this call wasn't fucked-up enough already.  Where's the fetus then?

Probably still in the body.  They don't know shit, you know, so they just stay where they are.

The kangaroo looked around while the dinosaur walked into the wreckage.

It's in there, and it's dead, the dinosaur said, sticking his head through what was left of the car's roof.

Ah, that's sad.

Well, at least you can knock one out without having to worry about it.

I don't understand why there's been so many still living ones lately.

I told you.  That's cause somebody's been fucking up.   Probably on purpose.  I'm telling you.  A rumble's coming.  I bet that's what that meeting they called is about.  Keep your head down.  I ain't taking a side.

That's kind of taking a side though.  Even not taking a side.

Man, is that the kind of philosophical bullshit they taught you in college?

I don't know.  I took an existentialism class once.  I wouldn't say it taught me that.

Well, whatever they taught you, not taking a side is the side I want to take.

???

Mac woke up, glad that the nightmare was over.  She pushed the covers off her head and realized she couldn't since they weren't blankets.  In fact, they weren't they at all.  They were an it, a warm and furry pouch.  Restraining a scream, she climbed out of the kangaroo pouch, dropping to the ground awkwardly, losing a high-heeled shoe in the process.

Hey, look who's back, a guy dressed in a Godzilla suit said, Hey, you lost your shoe.  I don't know how you women wear those things.  They look like torture on the feet.

Mac ignored him and started to put her shoe, a new rose red Soft Style Roslyn Pump that she bought on sale, back on.  You don't need shoes anymore, the guy in the Godzilla suit said, turning his right lizardy foot back into a human foot and kicking it into a tree and taking it out again, Nothing's going to hurt your feet, see?

I like them, OK? Mac said, finally getting the shoe back on.

OK, the guy in the Godzilla suit said and shrugged.

Mac's brain struggled to understand why she was having an argument with a guy wearing a Godzilla suit.

Then there was the giant kangaroo holding the clipboard.

The kangaroo said, Dude, I'm sorry about the baby.

What baby? Mac said.

The dinosaur whacked the kangaroo on the back with his tail, Never mind him.  He gets confused.  He may be a big kangaroo, but he just has a little kangaroo brain.  He's mixing you up with his joey.

Mac wondered if she were dreaming?  She must be dreaming.

The kangaroo and the guy in the Godzilla suit continued to argue.  You're the one who doesn't care about them.  You're always telling me to just throw them in the hole, the kangaroo said.

Man, you need to learn some tact.  She was out when we took care of it.  She doesn't need to know about it.  You got a hard enough job ahead of you, the guy in the Godzilla suit pointed at the kangaroo, And I still say that you should just kick her in the hole.

Yes, Mac definitely decided that she must be dreaming.  She had no idea what they were talking about.  OK, all she had to do now was wake up.  She yawned and shook her sleepy head.

I imagine that getting into an accident must be quite tiring, the kangaroo said, turning back to her.

Not as much as talking to a giant kangaroo is.

Zing!  She just singed your ass, the guy in the Godzilla suit said and laughed, This girl's got some spunk.

Mac glared at him, OK, how come you guys aren't gone yet?  I should be waking up by now.

Definitely a head injury.  She probably has brain damage,