The angel informed Eddie that he was dead. “You kicked the bucket,” said the angel. “You died in your sleep.”
“You’re pulling my leg,” said Eddie. “I’m just having a dream.”
“I think not,” said the angel. “Try getting out of bed.” Eddie couldn’t move. He was stuck lying on his back. He couldn’t even wiggle his toes.
“I’ve come to get you and take you to a wondrous place,” said the angel.
“You’re talking through a whole in your head,” said Eddie. “I’m just having a bad dream. Stop annoying me. I’m going nowhere. Piss off. I’m trying to sleep.”
“Very well,” said the angel, and left.
That was two hundred years ago.
