All the Nothing We've Done

By Christina McMullen

Chevelle Falsetto has died, struck down by the Number 48 bus. The very bus she should have been riding to work. Now, instead of explaining to her boss why she's late, Chevelle finds herself explaining to Saint Peter why she's early.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christina McMullen
• Release date: Jan 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9781393109266

Christina McMullen

Christina McMullen is a science fiction and fantasy author who dreams of flying cars, electric sheep, and one day having the means to adopt all of the world's rescue dogs. When she isn't writing, Christina enjoys travel, vegan cooking, modern and classical art (she fancies herself to be a somewhat competent artist as well as author), and of course, reading. 

Book preview

Always Wear Clean Underwear

ONE STUPID MISTAKE.

Is there anything worse than an otherwise reasonable person being done in by one completely boneheaded blunder? Not that Chevelle Falsetto, age twenty-eight, could ever be confused with a reasonable being. Nevertheless, her death was most certainly a boneheaded blunder.

It was 9:15 on a slushy, gray, windy, and all-around miserable Saturday morning when Chevelle realized that the Number 48 to the Parker Shopping District—which had been scheduled to pick her up at the corner of North and Miles at 9:06—was not just running late, but running late enough to compromise her employment. Already, the city’s lack of punctual public transit options had cost Chevelle a promotion, causing her to forfeit her position as opening manager at the Chicken Chateau.

Not that Chevelle truly wanted the position of manager. It wasn’t as if the trifling thirty cents extra per hour had done her much good. Admittedly, though, the overtime in her weekly check had been a welcome surprise. Regardless, Chevelle was happy to go back to being a line cook and occasional front counter order taker during the odd hours when she wasn’t as likely to run her mouth and piss off the customers.

It wasn’t a glamorous job. After all, despite the owner’s insistence otherwise, Chicken Chateau was a fast food joint. Oh sure, dine-in orders were served with real stainless steel cutlery, but the plastic plates and cups were all emblazoned with images of Chelsea, the cartoon chicken mascot decked out in a ski suit bearing the restaurant’s eye-assaulting color scheme. The same color scheme that made Chevelle think of a particularly gaudy circus tent every time she caught a glimpse of herself in the polyester uniform. But compared to some of her other jobs, Chicken Chateau