How To Be Dead (The 'How To Be Dead' Grim Reaper Comedy Horror Series #1)

by Dave Turner

Some days you are Godzilla. Other days you are Tokyo. Beneath the office lighting scientifically engineered to both increase productivity and crush the spirit, Dave Marwood stared out of the window. At twenty-five, he had learned that there were three key stages to employment: A) 'Oh. This is new!' B) 'I don't know what I'm doing.' C) 'Could someone please stab me with this pen?'

Some people are born in London, some move to London and some have London thrust upon them.

The visions had increased since he had moved to the city. Dave often saw and heard things in the dark shadows of the architecture. Things that nobody else noticed. Odd things. Odd even for London. He originally put it down to working too hard, but conceded to himself that that theory was probably unlikely.

As with everything in life, Dave took a pragmatic approach to his hallucinations and decided that, as long as they weren't telling him he was the Messiah or that he should hurt himself or others, he would treat them as a mere inconvenience, like a delayed train or a poor mobile phone signal.

As far as Gary was concerned, the glass was not only half empty; it also contained a mind control drug placed there by the military-industrial complex. He had recently split up with his girlfriend by telling her: 'It's not you. It's them.'

'Every time you tell a lie an angel punches a unicorn in the face with a kitten.'

'I am Death. I am merely a ferryman between your world and the next. I am not here to judge. I will mock, though.'

Quantum physics was put together on a Friday afternoon. That's why humanity will never figure it out. Some of the bits are the wrong way round.'

Nobody, not even the Horsemen, knew when the end of the world would come. Some had believed that it would happen when the Mayan calendar ran out. Others held onto the Judeo-Christian texts. Death was sure it would be when the sale at DFS ended.

'Life is like a box of chocolates. It doesn't last very long if you're morbidly obese.'

'All I know,' said Gary, arms outstretched, 'is that God is dead and I am an insignificant speck in an uncaring universe. But there's cheesecake. So, y'know, swings and roundabouts. Cheese and cake.

'Humanity. I love you all, but you've really got to stop being wankers to each other. When will you learn? Whatever your gender, race, religion or sexual orientation, you're all as insignificant as each other.

'Yes, everything happens for a reason,' Death said, 'but sometimes the reason is that life is cold, random and awful. Like telephone banking.

Personally, I believe that love is merely a chemical imbalance that makes you forget your credit card limit.'