An old house, a geek, a cute transvestite, a very tall lesbian, and at least one ghost–what could happen? – Adult situations and artistic nudity. Not suitable for children.
OK since this is the last one of these I’ll post about the time I died. No, not kidding. I joke about it alot but for at least two minutes and probably longer I was minus both pulse and respiration because Some Asshole (always important to capitalize a proper name) couldn’t stand for my bicycle to be on his road, something he made sure I knew before he hit me with a pickup truck going 60 MPH. It wasn’t that bit that let others know it was deliberate because I was the only one that could her him swearing to get off the road. It was the fact that he had to wait until he got to a place where he could cross the median to get on my side of the road and be going the same direction as I was riding.
I wasn’t in Heaven, it was more like a waiting room with a 3-D TV showing the entire universe. There was an older person in there who told me I could zoom in as far as I wanted, but didn’t tell me how, and I got called back before I could figure out how to make it work. I was also told I was there to become one with the universe and there is some dispute as to whether I was actually called back or if I left from boredom, but either way, here I am. I will say that being dead was very peaceful and pain-free, unlike the state I came back to, with multiple broken bones in my leg and skin missing or detached from several places on my leg and face. That shit hurt, and to a much lesser degree still hurts. But that was over 18 years ago and at least some of the discomfort is because I’m almost old enough to collect Social Security now to go with getting killed. And I should probably mention that being dead saved my life because I had a huge open wound with multiple severed arteries in my lower leg that didn’t cause me to bleed out because my heart wasn’t beating to push the blood out, and that I didn’t “come back” until they tried to scrape my remains off the street. The funny part of this was at least some of the people there decided I was “dead dead” and were quite startled when I told them to be careful because I “broke the upper end of my femur”. I remember their startled shouts and then I passed out again and woke up in the ambulance asking if anyone got the number of that truck, and telling them it was too late to be a bus so it had to be a truck. I also mentioned that the only thing I could say for sure was that it was white and some kind of truck.
The rest after that was being blind in the ICU and not mentioning that it was nice to have the lights turned low so I could rest until after I was transferred to a ward bed, but that is a tale for a different venue.
OK since this is the last one of these I’ll post about the time I died. No, not kidding. I joke about it alot but for at least two minutes and probably longer I was minus both pulse and respiration because Some Asshole (always important to capitalize a proper name) couldn’t stand for my bicycle to be on his road, something he made sure I knew before he hit me with a pickup truck going 60 MPH. It wasn’t that bit that let others know it was deliberate because I was the only one that could her him swearing to get off the road. It was the fact that he had to wait until he got to a place where he could cross the median to get on my side of the road and be going the same direction as I was riding.
I wasn’t in Heaven, it was more like a waiting room with a 3-D TV showing the entire universe. There was an older person in there who told me I could zoom in as far as I wanted, but didn’t tell me how, and I got called back before I could figure out how to make it work. I was also told I was there to become one with the universe and there is some dispute as to whether I was actually called back or if I left from boredom, but either way, here I am. I will say that being dead was very peaceful and pain-free, unlike the state I came back to, with multiple broken bones in my leg and skin missing or detached from several places on my leg and face. That shit hurt, and to a much lesser degree still hurts. But that was over 18 years ago and at least some of the discomfort is because I’m almost old enough to collect Social Security now to go with getting killed. And I should probably mention that being dead saved my life because I had a huge open wound with multiple severed arteries in my lower leg that didn’t cause me to bleed out because my heart wasn’t beating to push the blood out, and that I didn’t “come back” until they tried to scrape my remains off the street. The funny part of this was at least some of the people there decided I was “dead dead” and were quite startled when I told them to be careful because I “broke the upper end of my femur”. I remember their startled shouts and then I passed out again and woke up in the ambulance asking if anyone got the number of that truck, and telling them it was too late to be a bus so it had to be a truck. I also mentioned that the only thing I could say for sure was that it was white and some kind of truck.
The rest after that was being blind in the ICU and not mentioning that it was nice to have the lights turned low so I could rest until after I was transferred to a ward bed, but that is a tale for a different venue.