Part
17
In the afterlife no-one can hear you squirm. You are
peculiarly subject to the squirms of those still condemned
to life, however.
As
Lech Lutha and John F. Kennedy continued their speculation
as to who had been murdered in Memory Lane, Lech felt
a definite twinge of pain in his lower back.
'Talk
of this is giving me pain,' he said, clutching himself
Rigsby-like, whilst arching his back.
'Is
it like a kick in the kidneys?' asked the dead Kennedy.
'It
is. Yes. As far as I remember.'
'Then
it could be a sign.'
'Of
what?'
'Well,
when someone kicks it in the afterlife, you get a
phantom kick in the kidneys. Don't ask me why - you
just do. You see when Lee Harvey Oswald came here,
he was later shot again by Jack Ruby, purely for the
hell of it. Anyway, Lee was transported back to life
as a dung beetle. I got the kick in the kidneys when
he was sent back as he was reminded of me again, naturally.'
JFK
noticed the blank look on Lutha's face. 'Are you following
me?'
'Not
in reality. No,' said Lech.
'Well,
whoever has been murdered in Memory Lane is remembering
you as they return to life again.'
'But who could it be?' wondered Lech.
'Were
you murdered when you were alive?' As the statement
escaped his lips, the president pondered its absurdity.
'Well,
you know what I mean.'
'I
died of national causes.'
'Natural,'
corrected the president.
'No,
national. I was killed fighting for my country.'
'In the war?'
'No.
In a bar. In Leith. Scotland. My assailant was making
fun of my withered arm and also Poland. I hit him
with a snooker cue, he hit me in the face. I fell
and hit my head and ended up here.'
'Well,
that's it, then. Your attacker must be the one who's
been killed in Memory Lane. Who was it?'
'Was
a fellow named Glen Grottie. He boxed for his country
- light or middle weight, and after started bouncing
at Eldorado nightclub. He never liked me because of
my way with the ladies which he never had. A bitter
man. He was hibee though, so you could be right.'
The
president and Lech left the Dead Lion and made for
Memory Lane where they learned from a chap called
Casper that it was indeed Glen Grottie who had been
murdered. Apparently he had insulted a local dignitary
in such a heinous manner that Casper was loathe to
repeat what was said. Suffice to say, Glen had now
been sent back to the land of the living as a tick.
'A
tick you say?' said the president. 'That's interesting.
I wonder what happens if he sucks the lifeblood out
of a living soul?'
'I'm
sure I don't know,' said Casper. 'Do any of you guys
know of a Michael Cade? He was instrumental in bringing
me to a wider audience when I was a confused afterlifer
in my young days. I was just thinking about him the
other day. I sure would like to meet the feller again.'
Next
week: Through the Keyhole
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