text: The Irony of Dying (again) on Your Birthday March 23rd, a Saturday Carl Johnson died two days ago. He knew this to be true, but he stood up off the cold slab today anyway. His heart was not beating; in fact is heart was on a refrigerated truck, thanks to his organ donor card, but he was moving, and he was thinking. He tried to remember what happened the two days he was gone, but it was like a drunken sleep, where you don’t dream, or move; you just wake up flat on your back, with your arms crossed over your chest, briefly happy that you still exist, even if your condition has worsened a bit. Carl Johnson walked out the front door of the mortuary, naked, and remembered that the sun felt nice, instead of annoying, for the first time in 22 years. His wife stabbed him when he got home, because she thought he was a ghost, or a zombie, and Carl told her he guessed he was, but he’s still the same old Carl. After she calmed down they made love on the floor for the first time in 22 years. It was cold because Carl was cold. March 25th, a Monday Carl had hoped to use his new lease on life to travel around the world with his wife with the life insurance check, but of course once We Care About You A lot - Mutual (TM) found out that Carl was animated again, they took that away, and sued him for insurance fraud, so Carl went back to work as a CPA. His company welcomed him back, after they stabbed him in fear, and set him up with a private cubicle so no one would have to see him (or smell him, now that he was slowly decomposing) except for at lunch and leaving time. They did leave a small window so he could look out at his co-workers and ask them about last night’s game. The flies somehow still found him back there, but other than a small buzzing noise when his co-workers walked by, it was inconsequential. Carl worked harder than ever, sure that his company would recognize his efforts this time. March 29th, a Friday Carl left work at 5 pm, ready to enjoy the weekend with his wife. He walked in, flies trailing behind him, their children squirming inside of him. He went to give his wife a kiss, but she was repulsed by his smell, his coldness, and how round he was getting from the bloat. She smiled at him with love, and said that maybe she could get her nose removed. Carl laughed, and he and his wife went to the beach, on bicycles, and had a pleasant picnic, as long as she stayed up-wind. April 3, a Wednesday Carl’s gut exploded at work today, all over the computers and phones. The company took it out of his paycheck, and got him some new equipment. They put a roof on his cubicle and vacuum sealed all the cracks so that his smell didn’t escape, except for the brief walk to and from the car. They closed up the window on the day his nose fell off, and made him come in early and leave late, so he had no human contact. But he was crunching numbers still, so the company kept him on. July 4th, a holiday Carl continued to decompose, and continued to work. He was still the same old Carl on the inside, and his wife continued to love him, even though she couldn’t be in the same room with him anymore. They set up love-making sessions with him standing in the backyard, and looking into the back window while she pretended he was whole and warm again. They decided to have their annual cook-out, and let Carl man the grill, while the rest of the party stayed inside. Carl’s mother-in-law was pleading with her daughter to move on, to find someone new. Carl’s best friends chimed in more of the same. “It’s just not right, watching him decompose like that, he belongs in a box, out of sight.” No one ate Carl’s burgers, but they did order a pizza. August 1st, a Tuesday Carl didn’t understand why his wife was crying on his birthday until the crowd showed up in the yard. He saw his friends, his co-workers, his boss, his parents, and half the town on the lawn with various weapons. He walked outside and took a shotgun shell to the arm, it blew off the exposed bone, and Carl explained that he couldn’t die again. The crowd grabbed him and pulled him into the street. He expected his wife to try to stop them, but she just shut the shades and closed the door. The crowd took Carl to his cemetery plot. Carl pleaded that he could just go away; he wasn’t hurting anyone. The crowd threw Carl into the hole, and the concrete truck began to pour in around Carl. September 29th, a Thursday Carl’s wife sat beside his grave and touched the gravestone. She turned the volume on her headphones up to muffle the screams, and smiled lightly at the memory of her husband. August 1, 1974-March 21st 2017-August 1, 2017 read his gravestone. She placed a flower in the prearranged vase, and then turned to leave. She walked out of the soundproof barrier placed around his grave, and took her headphones out. “Don’t Fear The Reaper” was playing lightly through earbuds dangling at her chest. *** Feel free to follow my for more.