{"id":2106,"date":"2016-06-24T16:37:52","date_gmt":"2016-06-24T16:37:52","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/sanborns.org\/word_press\/?p=2106"},"modified":"2016-09-12T17:13:53","modified_gmt":"2016-09-12T17:13:53","slug":"short-story-its-not-personal-its-just-business","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/sanborns.org\/word_press\/short-story-its-not-personal-its-just-business\/","title":{"rendered":"Short Story: It\u2019s not personal. It\u2019s just business."},"content":{"rendered":"

I<\/strong> thought dying would hurt. Instead, it felt more like waking up. I stood beside the wreckage of my new Mercedes and felt a detached concern as I looked over at my mangled corpse. It was clear I was long past salvation.<\/p>\n

A crackle of energy behind me made me whip around. A well-groomed businessman wearing a pristine white suit, white tie and even white shoes, approached me.<\/p>\n

He smiled and said, \u201cSurprised?\u201d<\/p>\n

I snorted and folded my arms, \u201cAbout what? That I\u2019m dead? That there\u2019s really an afterlife? That I\u2019m greeted to it by a used car salesman?\u201d<\/p>\n

His teeth smiled but not his dead eyes. \u201cAll of it. I have a proposition for you, Mr. Michael Ray Oswald.\u201d<\/p>\n

I knew it.<\/em> I was sure if there really was an afterlife, then I could use my skills to bargain and improve my situation. \u201cIt\u2019s not personal. It\u2019s business\u201d, had been my life\u2019s motto. Not only had this mantra brought me success in life but apparently would do so in death as well. \u201cI\u2019d like to stay in one of the nicer areas. What are your terms?\u201d<\/p>\n

The man in white stroked his well-groomed white goatee. \u201cI have a task I\u2019d like you to help me with. If you do well then you\u2019ll be rewarded.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re on. Where do we begin\u2026?\u201d Before I was done talking, he and I were standing downtown Manhattan. Elegant skyscrapers filled my vision.<\/p>\n

\u201cSee that little old lady?\u201d My afterlife guide pointed towards a blue haired old lady standing next to a crosswalk. \u201cHelp her cross the street.\u201d<\/p>\n

I willed my form to float over to her. It was actually fun. I reached out to her and my hand slid through her stomach.<\/p>\n

The man in white chuckled and tapped his right temple. \u201cClear your mind of emotion and concentrate.\u201d<\/p>\n

That wasn\u2019t hard for me as I was a daily practitioner of yoga. I focused all of my energy towards grabbing the woman\u2019s hand. The crosswalk sign counted down, giving us fifty seconds remaining. Plenty of time. <\/em>I began pulling her across the street. She resisted at first but then relented. Once she reached the other side, I sighed and let go.<\/p>\n

She yanked her hand away and started wobbling back the way we had just come. I looked at the timer and there was only eight seconds remaining. I shouted at her but she didn\u2019t hear. I swiped out to grab her but I couldn\u2019t connect. I felt panic as there was only two seconds remaining and she was in the middle of the street. A dump truck squeeled around a corner and barrelled towards us.<\/p>\n

I ran towards the vehicle and it passed right through me. I turned around to see the old lady standing right in front of me. She scowled at me for a moment and then looked straight up.<\/p>\n

Thank God she\u2019s safe.<\/em><\/p>\n

Then a light shined between two skyscrapers. The smiling woman floated quickly up in a golden beam and into the clouds.<\/p>\n

The man in white started belly-laughing. \u201cI knew you were our man,\u201d his laughter staccatoed between breaths.<\/p>\n

A crowd began forming around a pile of grey rags. I hovered closer and saw the crumpled remains of the old woman. The angle of her neck made it evident her body would not be able to be reanimated.<\/p>\n

The man in white calmed down enough to ask, \u201cAre you ready?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFor what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFor Hell, dummy.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut it\u2019s not my fault. I did as you asked.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cExactly!\u201d He laughed.<\/p>\n

I felt very confused. \u201cAren\u2019t you an angel sent to bring me to Heaven?\u201d<\/p>\n

That sent the man in white off on another bout of gagging laughter. \u201cYou thought\u2026 you thought\u2026 after your wretched life\u2026 ha ha\u2026 that you\u2019d \u2026 haha\u2026 be going to Heaven?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

He stood back up and breathed deeply. \u201cThank you. I needed that. I haven\u2019t laughed that hard since the nineteen forties. Our deal was, you\u2019d get what you deserved. I knew you\u2019d make a big mess, just as you did when you were alive.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSorry human. It\u2019s not personal. It\u2019s business.\u201d He resumed laughing as he dragged me to Hell.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I thought dying would hurt. Instead, it felt more like waking up. I stood beside the wreckage of my new Mercedes and felt a detached concern as I looked over at my mangled corpse. It was clear I was long past salvation. A crackle of energy behind me made me whip around. A well-groomed businessman […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[14],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-2106","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-writing"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/sanborns.org\/word_press\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2106","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/sanborns.org\/word_press\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/sanborns.org\/word_press\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sanborns.org\/word_press\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sanborns.org\/word_press\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2106"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/sanborns.org\/word_press\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2106\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2107,"href":"https:\/\/sanborns.org\/word_press\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2106\/revisions\/2107"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/sanborns.org\/word_press\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2106"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sanborns.org\/word_press\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2106"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/sanborns.org\/word_press\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2106"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}