The Shady Side Of Afterlife

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"And who might you be?"

"Crash Dawson".

The mans tired face looked sceptical, "Crash? Did your parents not like you?"

"Wha…oh…sorry, old habit. Crash is my nickname, my real name is Rick…Rick Dawson." He spoke loudly so the old man would get it right, over the buzz of the crowd.

It was like a convention. A big convention, a really big convention. Actually, it was more like one of those tremendously huge conventions they have to rent a football stadium for. The place was crammed with people from all walks of life, and all of them were chatting to each other. The noise of these hundreds of conversations was not unlike a high pitched, street issue, jack hammer; and it drilled deep into Ricks ears.

"And what was your cause of death?" The old man waited, pen poised on paper.

"Well that's where I'm confused," Rick leaned forward over the mans book, somewhat confidentially, "I don't think I'm supposed to be here, I think there's been a mistake."

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