Pondering what length of his beard should be cut was tiresome work, Garrick had thought, he didn't particularly have time to notice the sudden explosion of light until it had, and he had thought this to be the verbatim of divine intervention for his drunken ways, something he would quickly forget in the folowing events. As luck would have it, the explosion of apparent destructiveness knocked him to what he presumed to be the afterlife. The sudden darkness with gleams of glow peeking below seemed to be an adequate portrayal of the afterlife to his shell shocked state. This soon passed. "Death smells...like hay and old piss. I figure this is fate for goin' against the god's wishes, apparently my beard was s'posed to remain untouched. Wait, is this blood...do ghosts bleed? I guess I'nevah asked one of 'em, the fables were bloody fake."