The Silence of Eternity

By Lesley Corina

johnny refuses to believe that he's dead even when the bullet that kills his friend, cutter, passes straight through him. now with a companion spirit to help him they set out to uncover how and why they were killed. a journey that could humanise johnny; he having failed to achieve it in life. but it isn't easy being a ghost and trying to solve what turns out to be a series of murders as each member of the same band's ruthlessly annihilated. music critics don't normally go to such lengths. another problem's that the only living person who can see and speak to johnny and cutter is mr beverley berkshire and unorthodox, and sadly unsuccessful, medium. johnny's pushed further along the path towards humility as the woman he loves cremates him and then starts throwing herself at the hired help! meanwhile along with fending off beautiful women beverley tries his best to bring the living and the dead together; only someone's more interested in being with the living than with the dead. the plot unfolds to uncover as many ghosts as twists and turns while throwing a humorous light on a very dark subject.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lesley Corina
• Release date: Aug 2, 2013
• ISBN: 9780957643116

Lesley Corina

Hi I am not really into all this IT stuff - hence only a work Fb, no MySpace etc. I spend too much time writing - and some will say Yes you do - I hope you enjoy reading my creations. Otherwise I may have to resort to Fb.I love writing murder stories ... I have two Trilogy (well one is a thre book set the other - just grew and now is a four book with a 5th story to start in Nov 2013 as part of National Novel Writing Month. Coming soon with be my two (already printed) books - The Silence of Eternity and Reciprocity. BUT don't buy them as books - the edit is appalling. I promise to have both of them available on Smashwords before too long.

Book preview

THE SILENCE OF ETERNITY

By Lesley Corina

Published by Lesley Corina at Smashwords

Copyright 2013 Lesley Corina

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

Chapter One

Leaving his body where it lies Johnny Bee rises from the bed and glides over towards the window. Why he chooses to take such an unorthodox exit strategy is a mystery to him. Because he doesn’t look back at the bed, that he’s so recently vacated, he misses several important clues.

First; he doesn’t notice that his woman’s still sleeping. A slumber so deep it, to a trained eye, may indicate some form of chemical inducement. Nor does he notice the cooling body that’s lying very still on his side of the bed. In fact, during these early stages of the story, both Johnny and Sandra remain totally unaware of the devastating events that will soon take over their lives.

Well if I’m being totally honest the events are devastating for one person only; and that person is Johnny Bee. The events, that we will see unfold, will be just another working day for Sandra and, not to put too finer point on it, will actually be quite well received by Joyce Bell, her mother.

But reader I run ahead of myself. And if I wish to retain your attention for the full length of my story I must make sure my narration’s simple, to the point and in the jargon of today, provides added value.

I ask you to picture a modest dwelling in a sprawling, purpose built Housing Corporation owned block of flats in North West London. The furniture is somewhat gaudy and out of place. It’s been bought solely on price. The purchaser wants everyone to know that they have money to burn. And burn it they have. There’s a massive American car in their allotted parking bay; as well as a small sports car in a rented garage half a mile away.

Expensive trappings are crammed into every nook and cranny of the flat. The drawers and wardrobes are bursting with designer clothes that mostly are, and will now remain, unworn.

Sandra Bell lies sleeping under a mock, or is it?, leopard skin duvet with matching pillow cases. While her lover of the last eighteen months, all six foot four of him, glides silently towards the bay window that’s expertly hung with four richly patterned, very heavy and exceedingly expensive drapes. Sadly their dominant colour is a rich bright red that clashes violently with the yellowy gold of the thick wool twill carpet. But enough of their fashion horrors; they like it or, in the case of Johnny, liked it.

Eating and drinking were not pleasures that Johnny Bee indulged in. So he, weighing in at just under 13 stone, is able to manoeuvre his skinny fame around the room with comparative ease and with apparently no outward concern for his current state. Without giving it a second thought Johnny passes through the curtained windows. The idea that he must make a nocturnal visit to an old friend is the only notion in his otherwise empty mind.

Without any apparent effort, on his part, he leaves the flat. He then glides down the street, across the park, over the river and along the dual carriage way before deliberately gaining height as he approaches Festival Flats on Benton Street. When he’s gained sufficient altitude, so he’s level with the seventh floor, he as easily slips into the home of his long term friend Benjamin, Cutter to his friends, Walker as he had earlier glided out of his own bedroom window. He executes a graceful halt when he realises that, in spite of the lateness of the hour, Cutter’s not alone.

Johnny, never very good at hiding his emotions, allows his reactions to betray his annoyance. He turns his back and stares through the window he’s just come through. With what can only be described as a sulk glued to his lips he glares at the reflection of his friend as it’s mirrored in the window. Johnny’s unable to believe that Cutter, of all people, is actually not paying him the slightest bit of attention.

‘Some bloody friend you turned out to be,’ he snaps in a strong London accent. ‘Don’t get up off the floor or bother to introduce me to your new friend. If your old friends aren’t good enough to meet your new friends and have a beer or two with them; well that’s fine by me. We all change. And you’ve changed. Once upon a time you’d have been glad to see me. Johnny, nice surprise you dropping in on me, you’d say. Johnny, have a beer? you’d offer and without me having to ask. It may be that supermarket own brand crap. But at least you’d offer it without prompting. Johnny, I like it when you call round you’d say. Johnny, you’re the only friend I have who comes here to see me. I know, Johnny, that this flat isn’t up to much, ‘specially by your high standards, Johnny. But you, you, Johnny, you still come and see me even with all your wealth. Johnny, you’re a good friend to me, you’d say. But not today. For some reason it’s all change today. No, today I call round and you don’t even want to know me. Okay, if that’s how it is. Then that’s how it is.’

Throughout this tirade, which he carries out using a very accurate mimic of Cutter’s tenor pitched whine, he surprisingly doesn’t draw attention to his own unorthodox entry. Nor does he turn to face him. He prefers to keep his back to his friend and allow his eyes to scan the reflection of the two men. He senses tension, sexual tension he wonders? He lowers his eyes as he asks.

‘Cutter, didn’t realise. Bad time to call, eh? I’ll go.’ A movement from the guest draws his face back to the glass. He realises that there is tension between his friend and his guest; but it’s not sexual.

As Cutter still doesn’t acknowledge him Johnny fixes his gaze on the reflected image in the night curtained window. He sees his best friend. A young man who’s been through a lot; yet has always stood up for the little guy. A strong man, both mentally and physically, who’s now cowering in a corner. Johnny notices the crunched up posture and the look of abject horror on Cutter’s face. After a lengthy scrutiny of Cutter’s reflected features he realises that it’s this other visitor that Cutter doesn’t want around.

This sudden and totally uncharacteristic perception brings a smile to his thin lips. With cold clarity he realises that he’s actually just empathised with someone. It’s a new experience. A new feeling and he has a desperate urge to return to the sleeping Sandra to tell her all about it.

With a sudden rush of eagerness he prepares to leave when he realises that his urgency is only partly driven by Cutter’s apparent indifference. He shakes his head and lowers his face to the ground. Somehow, perhaps it’s the influence of his new found ability to empathise but, on the very moment of preparing his departure he realises that he’ll have to stay where he is. There are more urgent issues unfolding before his eyes.

Johnny glides over to Cutter with what he hopes is a friendly smile resting lightly on his lips. He holds his arms outstretched, his hands open in gestures of both friendship and forgiveness. Cutter still hasn’t noticed. Instead he keeps his eyes fixed on the other man while his lips mouth platitudes as a small trickle of, what looks likes, saliva spills over his yellowing teeth. A faint smell of urine pervades the scene. A smell Johnny assumes is coming from the other man. Everyone knows Cutter’s fastidious about his own personal hygiene.

As Johnny stares at his friend he’s unsure, fearful, afraid to make another move.

At this point let me step out of my narration and introduce you to Benjamin Walker or Cutter to his friends. As the story unfolds you’ll easily pick up the reason for his nick name.

Cutter, at 32, is a month older than Johnny. He’s a small man, five foot two and weighing a couple of pounds less than Johnny. Johnny and Cutter go back a long way together. To a time when Cutter, a refugee from a fee paying school, was forced to share a desk with Johnny at the local comprehensive. The two loners found they liked each other. They remained friends until the happy day when they left school after a career of missing classes, messing up exams and filling their time with petty theft, chasing girls and, for Cutter, playing in the band. The girls they never caught but Johnny managed to make a healthy profit from petty theft. Cutter, on the other hand, preferred playing bass guitar to stealing and practiced religiously until he became very good. He played with several local bands. Eventually he persuaded Johnny to take up the drums so they could be paid real money while chatting up girls. It was only when Johnny realised that this would also provide him with easy pickings, it’s notoriously easy to remove unguarded wallets during pop gig intervals, that he agreed to practice until he also was good enough; just.

Did Cutter know about his nefarious activities? No. Because if he had he’d have asked Johnny to stop. Johnny wouldn’t have listened; but that wouldn’t have stopped Cutter asking.

This is why Johnny and Sandra have a modest flat, lavish furnishing and two expensive cars. While Cutter, who actually does have real talent, lives in the attic flat of a converted seven story house in the heart of a rundown neighbourhood with peeling wallpaper, dripping taps, and a cracked avocado coloured plastic sink in the corner of his living space. There’re damp patches over all the walls. Half sheets, thrown over butchers’ string, provide the curtaining; which tonight hasn’t been drawn. Old lino successfully covers the rotting floorboards; until you step on them that is. Cutter has tried to disguise the bleak look of the flat by artistically arranging reject carpet samples as asymmetrically as possible over the whole space. The samples add definition to specific areas. The overall look is surprisingly good; if a little more Jackson Pollock than John Constable.

Johnny’s now looking down on his friend annoyance playing over his features. He wonders why he should be drawn to remaining when all he wants to do is get back to his sleeping Sandra. He spins around, moves slightly and comes to stand directly between Cutter and the other man. He finally decides that if Cutter can’t be bothered, to acknowledge his presence, then he’ll just go. It’s obvious that he isn’t wanted. After all Johnny knows that two’s company whereas three’s a crowd. He decides to make his excuses and leave as quickly as possible.

For the first time since his arrival he looks into the face of the other man.

The bullet exits the gun and makes swift progress towards Johnny.

‘Shit,’ Johnny says as the small object passes straight through him and slams into the body of his friend who suddenly seems willing to talk to him.

Chapter Two

‘Johnny, get him for me,’ Cutter gasps as his body falls to the floor.

His blood mingles freely with his other bodily fluids as they all spread smoothly over the bright blue carpet remnant that is Cutter’s decorative touch to distinguish the seating area from the rest of his accommodation.

Johnny turns to watch the other man as he removes the silencer from the gun, opens the case and then pushes the two pieces into their appropriate slots. Johnny, enraged, throws himself at the assassin with a turn of speed that takes both himself and Cutter by surprise.

‘There you go, Johnny,’ Cutter comments.

He has a breathy, high pitched, yet soft voice that has more than a hint of whining to it. He’s taken years to perfect this little man voice. It does exactly what he set out to do with it. It successfully hides all traces of his upper class upbringing. He has found that, in his line of work, a public school education and posh accent are more of a hindrance than a benefit.

Almost to himself Cutter continues, ‘Lick-a-de-spit, Johnny. You move real fast when you want to, Johnny, don’t you?’

‘What happened, Cutter? Did he move?’

‘I guess you built up such a head of steam, Johnny, that you just failed to stop and went straight through him.’

‘Don’t be silly. He moved. He must have.’

‘Sure; that’s right, Johnny,’ Cutter adds.

The slight stammer to his delivery is also deliberate. At all costs he wants to remain in the background. Even at the cost of deferring to Johnny Bee.

‘Johnny, you run lick-a-de-spit into him and yet you don’t cause a hair on either of your heads to fall out of place. But, you’re the boss, Johnny, if that’s what you say happened who’m I to argue. I guess that’s what happened.’

‘Too right it did. The coward got out of my way.’

‘Johnny, how could that happen?’

‘You want me to explain physics to you?’

‘You know, Johnny, it didn’t look like that from my angle. And you know what the funny thing is, Johnny? To cut-a long story short, Johnny, the funny thing is this. I thought I saw you go straight through him. Now isn’t that a funny thing, Johnny? But I guess it was a trick of the light. Is that what you say, Johnny? That is was just a simple trick of the light that was playing old Cutter for a fool. Is that your answer, Johnny?’

‘Either that or whatever sauce you’ve been on.’

‘I guess, Johnny, it’s what comes of all the practice you’ve had of running away from husbands and the law. Is that it, Johnny? Is that why you move so fast? Lick-a-de-spit and then some.’

‘Cutter, you kill me. You really do -.’

‘I kill you, Johnny?’

‘The sod’s going to get away unless we stop him! Cutter, help me! Just lying there, sprawled on the floor like it’s throwing out time at the Duck ‘nd Grouse, won’t help. Besides he’s getting away. Oh no you don’t. You stand there and take that!’

Johnny tries to hit him. He fails to make contact. Astounded he cries out.

‘What now? Cutter, what’s happened to me? I don’t seem to -. That son of a bitch isn’t going to get away. Not if I can help it.’

‘But, Johnny, how you think either of us can prevent it? Johnny, please stop it. You’re only tiring yourself out. And, Johnny, I think I need a friend to talk to right now. What you say, Johnny?

‘How can this guy dodge so? It’s as if he can’t see me.’

‘Johnny, what you keep throwing punches at him for? It’s not having any impact. Johnny, can’t you see that not a single one of your blows has come even close to hitting him? Johnny, Johnny, don’t you think there’s something else you could be doing?’

‘I’m not going to let him …’ in desperation Johnny tries to pick up the table, then a chair and finally a single pencil. Each item remains impervious to his grasp. ‘Shit,’ he says again. While somewhat repetitious he does say it with feeling. He realises that he’ll soon have to face the consequence of his lack of any physical presence.

The assassin walks straight through Johnny and over to where Cutter’s body's slumped on the floor. Stooping he peers at the lips before placing a gloved finger to the temples. Apparently satisfied he stands up and walks back to where he left his gun case.

In exasperation Johnny lets out a stream of breath, gently at first and then harder and harder as unexpected sounds fill the tiny room.

The assassin looks around assessing each of the closed doors that face him. He knows that the sound that he can hear cannot actually be running water. But in reality, whatever the sound is, it does sound like fast flowing liquid and it’s making him desperate to relieve himself.

Silently, and with his gloved hands cushioning his genitals, he looks at the three doors that lead off from the room. He knows the first one, being the door he came through earlier, leads to the hallway. He guesses that behind one of remaining doors there may be a loo. He wonders about using it. Then he shakes his head and turns away from the body.

‘Don’t get up,’ he says in a heavy Glaswegian accent. ‘I’ll just get me case. Won’t trouble ya to use the bog. I’ll use the passageway on the way out. In flats like these it doesn’t matter who adds to the pools of piss on the steps.’

As he picks up his case the lid falls open allowing the unsecured gun to drop to the floor. He swears loudly as he retrieves it. It unnerves him when he forgets to pay attention to the detail. He has to be so careful in his line of work. He cannot afford to be distracted.

‘Guess I need a pee more than I thought,’ he adds. ‘It’s making me forgetful. Can’t have me forgetting what I came to do; can we?’

The sound of running water starts up again. It appears to be getting louder. He realises that if he doesn’t get out soon he’ll embarrass himself where he’s standing; right there on the lino. He places his case on the table and runs to the smallest door. A tiny kitchen, he tries the next and finds an even smaller room that contains a surprisingly clean toilet and shower. Leaving the door open he noisily relieves himself as the sound of running water envelops his body and fills his mind. Without flushing the loo he hastily retrieves his case, dashes for the door, pauses momentarily while efficiently disengaging the lock and then flees the scene.

As the assassin leaves the toilet Johnny stands, hands on hips, shaking his head and saying, ‘Didn’t your mother tell you that you should always wash your hands after using the lavatory?’ As the door slams shut, behind the assassin, Johnny realises that he’s alone with his friend.

‘They got you too, Johnny?’

‘You was never one for a fight, was you?’

‘Johnny, what’s to fight over?’

‘Friend of yours, is he?’

‘Not really a friend, Johnny. Is that what you think, Johnny? That I’m so desperate for friends that I’d number him among them?’

‘He seemed friendly enough.’

‘Friendly? Friendly? But, Johnny, didn’t you see that he’s just shot me dead. How can that be friendly, Johnny?’

‘You arguing over a woman, is that it? It normally is with you. Have you been giving his old woman the eye? Who’s been a naughty boy then?’

‘But, Johnny, he and I; we didn’t argue over nothing. He just came in here and shot me. I swear to it, Johnny, we never argued. In fact he never said a word to me.’

‘So he came visiting, said nothing and then shot you. Right pair of unsociable buggers you two are, aren’t you? It would explain one thing.’

‘What’s that, Johnny?’

‘It would explain why you both ignored me for so long.’

‘I didn’t ignore you, Johnny. I said hello to you the moment I saw you. Johnny, didn’t you hear me? I remember thinking, at the time, that you looked a bit distracted?’

‘Sure you did. But only after I’d been here for hours.’

‘Johnny, you know I’d not ignore you. Besides I spoke to you as soon as I saw you. I remember that as clear as day. Don’t you, Johnny, remember that I said get him for me.’

‘But all the time I was here before then; you and he just ignored me.’

‘Johnny, you don’t believe that? Do you, Johnny? That I’d ignore you, my oldest friend. We go back a long way together. Don’t we, Johnny?’

‘Sure we do, Cutter, but that don’t stop you killing me.’

‘Johnny, I never liked that expression and I like it even less now. Why you so taken with it?’

‘You been talking to my Sandra behind my back?’

‘No, Johnny. Why, don’t she like it either? I guess it don’t matter now. You carry on using any words you like. Don’t mind me. I guess I’m just a little shocked. It’s not every day this type of thing happens to a man. Is it, Johnny? I guess I’m going to have to get used to a whole new vocabulary from now on. What you say, Johnny?’

‘This one’s been good enough for me up to now. I don’t see what all the fuss’s about.’

‘Johnny, I promise I spoke to you as soon as I saw you. In fact I was going to ask you how you got in. But you were preoccupied with that pantomime of trying to hit him.’

‘Pantomime! Pantomime? I was trying to help you. Defend you. And that’s all the thanks I get. Well why do I bother?’

‘Sorry, Johnny, I appreciate it. I really do. It’s just that it’s been a rather difficult night for me; one way or another.’

‘You and me as well, Mate. You and me as well.’

‘You’ve not been here that long. Have you Johnny?’

‘Long enough. Long enough for you to insult me and for you and your friend to ignore me totally.’

‘Johnny, why you keep calling him my friend? He isn’t you know.’

‘Then why you invite him round? You must have let him in so you must have been expecting him. Isn’t that what friends do, drop in on each other?’

‘Johnny, I didn’t let him in. Besides I have no friends other than you. Why’d you think I’d make up a story about something like that, Johnny? I wouldn’t do that.’

‘Don’t give me that. I was here and you didn’t speak to me while he was here.’

‘Oh, Johnny, don’t you know what’s just happened? I guess you don’t or you’d not be snapping at me. Johnny, this isn’t going to be easy for me to say. And I guess, Johnny, it’s not going to be easy for you to hear.’

‘You know how long I’ve been here and you’ve not even offered me a beer. Or even got up off the floor. Cutter, what did you mean just now when you said, you too?’

‘Johnny, when you came in here what did you think? Anything at all, Johnny. Did you think anything at all was wrong? Well, did you, Johnny?’

‘Cutter, if you’re talking that means you’re still alive. Give me your mobile so I can call an ambulance. I appear to have come out without mine.’

‘Johnny, to cut-a long story short -.’

‘Cutter, don’t start that. I haven’t time for another of your long, rambling, boring stories.’

‘I thought we had all eternity, Johnny. Don’t you think we’ve got all eternity, Johnny?’

‘No, Cutter, just the night. You may be a sad loser with no one in your bed. But I left Sandra sleeping. And with a bit of luck she’ll be wanting me when she wakes. Odd. I don’t normally leave without checking I’ve got cash, car keys and mobile with me. But tonight I guess I didn’t.’

‘This time, Johnny, you appear to have come out without something else as well. Johnny. Have you seen yourself lately?’

‘You noticed. I gained a couple of pounds. Sandra said I’d to get some meat on me. She’s trying me on this new diet. I think it’s working.’

‘You may have left it too late, Johnny. To gain weight, I mean.’

‘I don’t see why. Look, cut the crap and get me a beer. Besides why are we checking sartorial elegance? Do you like that? Sartorial elegance! It’s Sandra. Not only does she want there to be more of me but she wants me to improve my vocabulary. She said I’ve to learn to talk posh if I’m ever going to impress her mother. She’s enrolled me in this class -. Cutter, what’s up? How the hell can you do that?’

‘Do what, Johnny. You told me to get up, remember?’

‘Yes, but not like that.’

‘Like what, Johnny?’

‘Like you’re sprawled over there on the floor and at the same time you’re gliding by my side. That’s just not natural. Not natural at all.’

‘What’s been natural about tonight for either of us, Johnny?’

‘Come on, are you doing it with mirrors? It’s a good trick, however it’s done. You going to show me how you’re doing it?’

‘No mirrors, Johnny, it’s no trick. Is that what you’d like this to be, Johnny, a trick?’

‘What I’d like what to be? What’s with the what I’d like it to be? It’s you who’s doing it.’

‘I’d like it not to have happened as well, Johnny. But, Johnny, I guess it’s too late for that. It’s happened and, and…! Johnny, when you look at me, sprawled out on the floor like that, Johnny, what you see?’

‘Pissed again, I take it.’

‘Is that really what you see, Johnny? Denial can only last for so long, Johnny.’

‘Good. ‘Cause, Cutter, your denying me that beer’s just so out of line.’

‘Johnny, don’t you see that bullet hole in my skull? Or the exit wound that’s as big as my mouth? Or my brains splashed all over the furniture? Don’t you see that, Johnny? Because that’s what I see. And look, Johnny, can you see how my blood’s soaked into my tux? You really think I’m up to calling for an ambulance, Johnny? Or that, Johnny, while we wait for it to arrive we could pass the time of day drinking beer and talking about how you could improve your vocabulary?’

‘I admit, it don’t look good for you.’

‘But, Johnny, from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look good for either of us. Isn’t that what you see as well, Johnny?’

‘To be honest, no. Look at that wash-board stomach of mine and those well-toned legs and arms. I feel great.’

‘Johnny, are you cold? I couldn’t help but notice, Johnny. And I hope you don’t mind me pointing this out to you, Johnny. But you’re floating around here with only your Y-fronts on. I know I’m not really up on all the latest trends, like what you are, Johnny. But, Johnny, is that really the latest fashion?’

‘Sandra bought me these. She paid; well I paid a small fortune for them from a posh Gentleman’s Shop off Bond Street. Posh place; you know the type. Perhaps you don’t. You may have looked through the window of one or two. I doubt they’d let you in. They keep the doors locked so they can keep undesirables out.’

‘By undesirables, Johnny, you mean the ones who don’t throw their money around?’

‘Them’s the ones. Well, this shop. It’s massive but they only have a couple of garments on the shelves and even fewer on the rails. They hire posh sales assistants with cut-glass accents who all play polo and whose daddy bonks some minor royal or other. Do you like them?’

‘What, the minor royals, the daddies, or were you asking if I liked your Y-fronts, Johnny?’

‘Of course my pants.’

‘They’re really nice, Johnny. But, Johnny, no matter how nice they are, they are all you’ve got on.’

‘I’m okay with that.’

‘You don’t think it’s slightly bizarre behaviour, Johnny?’

‘No.’

‘Johnny, is it the type of thing you’d normally do?’

‘No, but then again, it’s good to step out of the routine every now and then. Keeps body and mind alive.’

‘And the soul?’

‘What about that? Cutter, you aren’t going all religious on me just because you’ve been shot, are you?’

‘Perhaps.’

‘I must say, you’re looking well. That’s providing I don’t look at that thing lying over there.’

‘That thing’s my body, Johnny. I guess we’ve both stepped out of our routine tonight. What you say, Johnny?’

‘If you say so.’

‘I do, Johnny, and, Johnny, inside, Johnny, what you feel like inside?’

‘Great. Why you so concerned with my health? It’s you who took a bullet and then started flying around.’

‘Johnny, I’m dead.’

‘Cutter, why so serious? First pissing your pants, then getting all religious and now this, this flying around stuff. Cutter, lighten up.’

‘Lighten up, Johnny, what you think this is? A game?’

‘Sure. Well, not so much a game more a dream.’

‘A what?’

‘Look, Cutter, I don’t have any injuries. Okay over there you look very dead. But here, by my side, you look normal. As you said I’m wandering around flying in and out of rooms in my Y-fronts. Cutter, what else can it be but a dream?’

‘I guess in your dream it would be right that I’d get murdered and you fly around. Tell me, Johnny, in your dream. Well I mean after your dream, when you wake up, do I get to come back to life as well?’

‘I guess you must. How else will you be able to help me improve my vocabulary?’

‘Johnny!’

‘Do you know what Sandra said to me the other night? We was getting into bed and she said that if I spoke better. If I had a vocabulary as good as yours –! Yes, Cutter, she actually mentioned you by name as we slipped between the sheets. Actually I found that a bit of a turn off. Your ugly mush being called to mind when I’m about to get between the sheets with my Sandra. But that’s the gods’ honest truth. She said it.’

‘Johnny, isn’t it clear to you that what self-improvements you’ve not already made you never will? Well, not in that life. Anyway, Johnny, who can say what we’ll be in this one. We should always look on the side of hope. Don’t you agree, Johnny?’

‘Cutter, shut up. I need to think.’

‘Johnny, you think that thinking will change the situation?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t …’

‘Johnny, this is hard. But you do know what’s happened here?