And Then They All Died Again: And Then They All Died Again, #2

By Andrew Stanek

The terminally hilarious dark comedy series is back with a second unsurvivable book! Thomas may have recovered his wallet, but his day just keeps getting worse as he discovers his insurance company is out to kill him. Will he get his insurance claim processed or will Duncan Nye reap his life insurance benefits first? Addictive suicide pills, locally sourced orphans, and a gallows with a happy hour, plus an unspeakably large number of mime jokes, all in And Then They All Died Again - a lethally funny pitch-black comedy by author Andrew Stanek, who was executed for literary malpractice for having written it.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Andrew Stanek
• Release date: Sep 16, 2020
• ISBN: 9798215944011

Book preview

Prologue

Author-General’s Warning: This book is known to the Author-General of the United States to contain dark comedy, including pitch-black comedy, and also contains an unspeakably large number of mime jokes. If you are of a disposition that cannot handle dark comedy, the Author-General strongly recommends you not read this book while dead or dying, or, alternatively, only read this book while dead or dying, so as to ensure that no inadvertent dark comedy ensues. If you cannot handle mime jokes or are of an anti-mime temperament, the Author-General recommends you keep quiet about it, as the mimes certainly won’t.

*****

Evil is not without its detractors. In fact, it wouldn’t be going too far to say that people are down on evil overall. These people are deeply misguided. Don’t they realize all the good evil has done? Loan sharking! Subprime mortgage derivatives! Cheap smartphones! Unpaid overtime! Why, if it wasn’t for evil, we might not have politics at all!

One particularly nasty kind of evil that the people and the nation itself have interminably struggled against is prejudice, because as we all know, bias is a form of evil. By the same token, bias against evil is a form of prejudice, and therefore evil itself. It follows logically that people who talk about how bad evil is without considering all evil’s good points are bigoted, and therefore evil themselves. At the same time, people who think evil is good are evil on the face of it. They’re walking around telling other people how great evil is, for goodness’ sake! Why, they’ll probably start writing satirical e-books next, and we all know that satirical e-book writing is the most refined form of evil! We are forced to conclude that just as people who are opposed to evil are evil, people who are in favor of evil are evil too. Tossing in that people who don’t have an opinion are guilty of the mortal sins of apathy, sloth, and probably also mime-ism, given how silent they are on the issue, we quickly reach the conclusion that everyone is evil.

Yes, evil is everywhere, from Hitler to structural bigotry to the tags on mattresses, and, most sinister of all, refusal to read satirical e-books, which some authors have described as the great evil of our time. In fact, a recent study by the Institute for Higher Planetary Destruction’s ethics department has recently come to the conclusion that everyone is evil. The question is why. One suggestion, popular among the religiously inclined and people who are fond of giving up, is that evil is inherent. The advocates of inherent evil believe that everyone is born a sinner, or a ne’er-do-‘ell, or at least some kind of highly suspicious and dishonest infant proto-criminal, and that evil is therefore implicit in what it means to be human itself. Others have forwarded the idea that the source of evil is desire, ie: we act evil because we want things, and the path to defeating evil is not wanting things, and that you should therefore get rid of all your things by giving them to the people doing the talking about the source of evil. This has proven a highly profitable field of endeavor for such philosophers, who have now collected the things of millions of people, thereby taking the evil of others upon themselves. Ms. Foppysmack of Crestfaller Lane, Union City, Missouri, has had a good, long think about it and come to the conclusion that the tooth fairy is the source of all evil. Ms. Foppysmack has therefore taken up laying traps for the tooth fairy at night, much to the annoyance of the patrons of her dentistry practice. As is so often the case, the truth is more extraordinary than any of these people ever guessed, even Ms. Foppysmack, who is now wanted for dental manslaughter in 12 states and the Virgin Islands.

The truth is that evil has to do with insurance. Thomas Norm Truman of Big Mistake, Oregon, learned that insurance is the source of all human evil after losing his wallet and, against all the odds, including the repeated assurance of the narrators that he would die, managed to survive the experience. He won’t this time, but then you’ve probably heard that before.

We rejoin Thomas and his friends as he regains consciousness in Big Hurt Hospital, fresh and ready and barely dying at all to embark on a new journey of ethical and very probably insurance-related discovery.

And then they all died again.

Chapter 1: Jet Li Divides His Army At Chancellorsville

Thomas opened his eyes, gasping and struggling spasmodically in his bed, not knowing where he was, because, as you may have heard, he thought he had died recently, and his physical and metaphysical location was therefore up in the air a little bit. As he made a few disjointed heaving and grunting sounds to give his vocal chords some cardio, the vague, familiar fragrance of burning alpaca wool mixed with mime sweat and medical malpractice lawsuits filled his nose and he became increasingly convinced that he was not, in fact, dead, but back in Big Hurt Hospital. At least part of his judgment on this score was related to his staring at the ceiling as his vision cleared. He very much doubted that Hell had an asbestos ceiling; they probably weren’t insured for it. Big Hurt Hospital, on the other hand, couldn’t afford not to.

Ugh, Thomas said, while his brain forced his throat muscles back into line like a commissar on the Eastern Front. Where am I?

Big Hurt Hospital, came a voice from a blurry shape. Thomas’ eyes had yet to consolidate their recent progress and Thomas’ couldn’t quite make out who it was, while his ears were strategically informing him that they had taken the day off.

Why? asked Thomas.

You were discharged late yesterday and walked off into the sunset, then collapsed about five steps from the hospital because your gunshot and stab wounds opened, and then we had to drag you back inside. It wasn’t easy. You put up a hell of a fight.

Thomas’ vision had become sufficiently non-treasonous for Thomas to make out the speaker. The blur consolidated into the form of Mal. Thomas blinked. His head swam, like a dodo bird in a snorkel, even as he struggled to sit up, also like a dodo bird in a snorkel.

Let me try this again, Thomas said to Mal. Why am I in the hospital?

You almost died, Mal told him pleasantly.

Then why do I feel so happy and thoroughly satisfied, like I just accomplished more than I ever have before in my life and I’m at peace with the world? Thomas asked.

You killed your insurance provider, Mal said.

Ah, Thomas said. That would be it, then. Why did I kill my insurance provider?

He was trying to steal your soul, Mal said.

Oh, said Thomas. What about lawyers? Are they trying to steal my soul?

No, no, no, Kevin said reassuringly, entering from the side of Thomas’ field of vision. We just want your money.

How about my doctors? Thomas asked.

It’s not stealing if you filled out your organ donor card, Dr. Hack Saw snapped at him, appearing as a blurry shape in Thomas’ field of vision. Thomas squinted at him, but could barely even make out his technicolor star-shaped sun glasses.

Dr. Saw? Thomas asked. Is that you?

Sorry I’m late, Saw said. "I got pulled over on the way here. I was speeding. I mean, I say I was speeding. I guess I also hit someone, but that doesn’t count. Really, the only reason I hit him was because I was drunk. Besides, it wasn’t my fault. It was their fault! Who lets an orphan play in the middle of the street? I tried to get out of it. I said, ‘come on officer. Can’t you let me off this one time? I’m on my way to perform surgery! And euthanasia is a very important surgery!’ Then he asked for my license and I told him, ‘I can’t show you my license because my medical license was suspended.’ He asked if I was speeding because the surgery I had to perform was life-saving, and I told him ‘no, I’m not performing the surgery because the surgery is life-saving. I’m going to perform the surgery because I need to be there for work, not to save his life. No one cares if he lives or dies! He’s an orphan! Or at least, he’s been an orphan ever since I operated on his parents.’ Anyway, long story short, I had to euthanize the officer too, then drive to the hospital to get to my surgery on time, and when I got there, it turned out my patient never showed up. He got hit by a car on the way! Can you believe that? What a coincidence. The nerve of some people."

Oh, Thomas said vaguely. Dr. Saw, it really is you.

Anyway, Thomas, Saw continued, disregarding Thomas’ comments like he disregarded the state medical board, while you were unconscious or dying or dead or whatever it was you were, I invented a new technique that will revolutionize medicine: medical pick-up lines.

I already said I know it’s you, Saw, Thomas said.

Medical pick-up lines, Saw continued eagerly. They’re going to be the next big thing.

Perhaps I should pause a minute to explain.

Flattery will get you nowhere, which is why politicians all remain entrenched in Washington for their whole careers, but it is also useful for various other applications. Whenever you wish to remain exactly where you are, you should try flattery, which will render it impossible to move you. Take, for example, the case of Mr. Milton Hammerside of Mukdow Lane, Columbus, Ohio, who was ordered evicted from his home and cat sanctuary for failure to pay his mortgage in anything other than used cat litter, which the landlord did not take kindly to. He subsequently made so many favorable comparisons between the landlord and the cat litter, though, that the landlord was legally unable to evict him and he was later declared a national monument, albeit one of the smellier ones, and went on to open a happiness factory and re-enact Custer’s Last Stand against the non-human population of his living room.

Curiously, though, there are people who don’t seem to be aware that flattery will get them nowhere, and they have collectively invented something called the pickup line. The idea behind the pickup line is this: these people are terribly lonely and are not particularly confident in their ability to say more than about a sentence without tripping over their own feet and breaking their own jaws, so they have fallen back onto the principle of basic flattery to win over the affections of a young lady not of their acquaintance who may or may not have caught their eye in a bar, nightclub, dentist’s office, alpaca rodeo, or other establishment or event. This almost never works, and is increasingly being interpreted by the powers and responsibilities that be as misogynistic, disrespectful, and probably inherently stupid.

Of course, mimes cannot use pickup lines, to their great distress, and are instead forced to try to attract mimes of the opposite gender purely through the use of visual symbology, which is what makes mime relationships so tense and unforgiving.

What the hell are you talking about, Saw? Mal demanded of Dr. Saw while some or all of this information flashed through Thomas’ crippled brain.

Pickup lines, Saw repeated like a poorly trained parrot with no social skills, which he wasn’t due to the failure of his experimental surgery.

Thomas struggled up in bed and equally struggled to understand what the hell Saw was talking about.

You mean like, ‘hey baby, you must be a thief, because you’ve stolen my heart,’ and ‘hey baby, heaven must be missing an angel,’ and that kind of thing? Thomas asked.

Yes, Saw said enthusiastically. I’ve found a medical use for them.

There was a pause.

What?!? Thomas said.

Let me demonstrate, Saw said.

Thomas looked around blearily. He watched as Saw dimly disappeared out of his room, presumably to another hospital room across the hall. There was a creaking sound as a door opened.

Hey baby, Dr. Saw’s voice drifted from outside. Heaven must be missing an angel, because your cancer has metastasized.

Uh oh, Thomas said.

There was a scuttling sound as Dr. Saw scrambled to a different room.

Hey baby, Dr. Saw said. I seem to have lost my phone number. I’m so, so sorry I didn’t get here in time.

Thomas could dimly see Dr. Saw’s star-shaped glasses as he waddled over to the next room.

Hey baby, I was wondering if you had an extra heart, because otherwise you desperately need cardiac bypass surgery, came Saw’s voice.

Hey baby, Saw started in the next room. If I said you had a beautiful body, would you let me examine your skin lesions?

After a certain amount of indistinct shouting and crying, Saw crossed back into Thomas’ room and reappeared, looming over Thomas.

I believe this will completely revolutionize bedside manners, Saw told Thomas. By repurposing pickup lines for medicine, doctors will have a whole new way to communicate with patients. In fact, I have already tweeted the idea of repurposing pickup lines for non-pickup purposes to everyone in Big Mistake. It’s catching on already!

This is great, Kevin said cheerily as he filled out some paperwork to Thomas’ left. I’m already filing a malpractice lawsuit.

You can’t sue me, Dr. Saw told him. You have Alzheimer’s, and that’s why you forgot you signed this malpractice waiver. Anyway, that’s just the standard of care you get at Big Hurt Hospital. Here at Big Hurt Hospital, our motto is that if you don’t have your health, you have nothing.

Arghh! I have nothing! came a scream from down the hall.

Saw and Kevin then argued as Kevin rushed to claim he represented the source of the scream.

As they bickered for a while, Thomas turned back to Mal.

You doing okay? Thomas asked Mal.

Great, Mal said.

What about where I shot you? Thomas asked.

It buffed right out, Mal said with a malicious grin. Anyway, I’m so glad I won our bet.

Thomas frowned.

You didn’t win our bet. You’re not even dead!

But you conceded after you shot me, Mal said.

Thomas cast his mind back, like a juggling neurosurgeon.

Oh yeah, he said with a groan. I did, didn’t I?

You did, Mal agreed. Now, I said at the time that I didn’t want your $1000 because all I really needed was your concession and the realization that people are scum.

Uh huh.

But I’ve changed my mind, Mal continued. Pay up.

Thomas reached into his pocket and his hand closed on something brown and leathery. Tenuously, barely daring to look as he moved, Thomas drew his wallet out of his pocket. It was the same wallet he’d always had. Thomas sighed with some combination of relief and lung damage from the various terrible injuries that Dr. Saw had papier-mâchéd over. Thomas opened his wallet, then paused. Obviously, there wasn’t $1000 inside. Thomas blinked.

Double or nothing, he said to Mal.

A fiendish grin broke over Mal’s face.

You think I can’t get myself killed two days in a row? Mal said, showing every tooth - including some that weren’t his - as he spoke. You’re on. Okay, double or nothing. If I can get someone to kill me by the end of the day, I win, and I get double, and you have to admit that people are scum again. Otherwise, you don’t have to pay anything and you don’t have to admit that people are scum, not that that’s going to happen, is it?

You’re dreaming, Thomas said. I’m not even going to do anything dangerous today. After all, I’ve got my wallet back. I’m just going to go back home and look through my pictures of the Duncan Nye Insurance Company building. Anyway, Kevin, will you officiate the bet again?

Kevin had fallen asleep.

Frowning, Thomas bonked him in the stomach with his elbow.

Huh, what? Kevin said, waking with a start. Objection! Being hanged is against my client’s religious beliefs.

Kevin, Thomas said.

Oh yeah, that’s definitely me, Kevin said, nodding so vigorously he almost convinced Thomas he could remember his own name. I’m Kevin Atlaw. No case, no win. That’s the Kevin Atlaw promise.

We need you to judge the bet again, Thomas said. Obviously, we’re not going to get Duncan Nye to do it, since he’s dead.

Sure - wait, hold that thought, Kevin said. I just remembered I need to make a phone call to a client.

He reached into his pocket and produced a disposable flip phone, of the type people used in the early 2000’s. He opened it and quickly dialed a number.

Hello, Ms. Johnson, Kevin said cheerily into the phone. I’m pleased to tell you that the court has appointed me to be your defense lawyer.

There was a long pause.

Stop crying, Ms. Johnson, Kevin said pleasantly. I’m just as good as any other lawyer.

Right, Thomas said, turning away from Kevin. So Kevin will referee the bet this time.

He turned back to Mal to find him answering his own phone.

Hello, customer service, Mal was saying into his phone. How can I help you? Oh, Mr. Smith, your pacemaker is acting up again? Why not try tasering yourself periodically instead?

Thomas rubbed his eyes. He then turned to look at Dr. Saw, who was also on his phone, tweeting out his idea for medical pickup lines.

I think this discovery of the medical utility of pickup lines will have a lot of applications throughout the rest of the professional community in Big Mistake, Saw told Thomas. I’ve told everyone to feel free to use my idea. Nobel Prize, here I come!

Thomas sighed very heavily.

I have to recommend it’s not safe to sigh like that, Thomas, Dr. Saw told him. It can lead to terminal melancholy and may also detonate the explosive fertilizer I packed into your lungs.

What? Thomas said.

Never mind, Dr. Saw said quickly. Anyway-

There was a sound of footfalls from the hallway of the hospital. Dr. Saw pulled back the privacy curtain and stared outside into the corridor.

Uh oh, Dr. Saw said. It’s my supervisor! This is the morgue! You’re not supposed to be down here! Quick, die!

It’s not the morgue, Thomas said. Listen, Dr. Saw, can you discharge me so I can go home?

Fine, that will get you out of the way too, Dr. Saw said. I’ll get the paperwork done.

He opened a folder. Inside, there was a curious, oddly cropped photograph with slightly poor contrast that caught Thomas’ eye. It seemed to show a younger, fresh-faced, donutless Saw surrounded by other young people, all of whom were smiling in a way that suggested they weren’t Saw’s patients. Thomas frowned and scooped up the photograph while Saw forged another, better doctor’s signatures on the discharge paperwork.

What’s this? Thomas asked, peering at each of the faces of the people in the photograph.

Oh, you know what that is? Saw said. It’s my graduation photo. I’ve been wondering where that went - I use it to distract patients while I operate on them.

Who are these people in the photo? Thomas asked, leaning in close to get a better look at them with almost professional curiosity.

Hm... good question. Wow, I haven’t looked at this in years - usually don’t stare at it while I’m operating, Saw said thoughtfully. All these faces really take me back. This is my graduating class from Dead Donkey University, Milton Prodmany Nearly Medical School. Look at all of us! So young. There’s me in the front row, and there’s Irving Vegatillius, he stole his degree and stayed in Dead Donkey, obviously. He’s an associate thief of the Organization of Highly Corrupt Scientists these days... Cross-Eyed Earl is there next to him. He always looked up to Irving as a mentor... became a surgeon at the Institute of Higher Planetary Destruction’s university hospital, the Institute for Higher Bodily Destruction... Dr. April next to him, she stayed in Dead Donkey as a psychologist... never did manage to get out of that straightjacket... Noel Schwartz sulking behind her, there. He works for Humancorp Incorporated, completely revolutionized the way we think about suicide pills... That’s Sarah Curtis on the left, got her doctorate before I did. She became a time-traveling anarchist. Very good career move. These days if you want to get a tenure-track position, it’s very helpful to get some time travel on your resumé, and also means you never miss a vacancy in your field. Arnold Birchwood is cowering in the tinfoil hat in the back. Ha! He kept trying to convince us the world was flat. The Rotarians have been after him ever since. And there on the end is Dr. Anthony Fauci. Top of the class. Sharp as a tack. I wonder whatever happened to him? Eh, he probably never went anywhere. I haven’t heard anything from him since.

Saw smiled at the picture and nodded.

Those were the days, he said. Happy times. You could really work without intervention by the state malpractice board in those days, you know? Anyway, here’s that death certificate you wanted.

Discharge paperwork, Thomas roared at him. I want to go home.

Okay, fine, Saw said. Sheesh, you don’t have to get so worked up about it.

I’m leaving, Thomas said, then got out of bed, disconnected a drip of bacon grease that Saw had hooked up to his ear, dressed himself, and started out of the hospital.

Wait! Saw said. I haven’t discharged you yet.

Yeah, whatever, Thomas muttered darkly, then started to stalk out of the hospital, much like a mime stalking a straggler from a wedding party.

Mal, Kevin, and Saw all followed Thomas outside into a field on the edge of Big Hurt Hospital, where a man in a patient’s gown was digging a hole.

Wait! Saw said, racing after Thomas. Thomas didn’t stop, marching straight past the man digging the hole. The man planted his spade in the ground, stopped digging, and intercepted Saw.

Dr. Saw, I’ve been digging this hole all morning, the man said. Why do I have to dig a hole to get the results of my blood test, anyway? Can I stop digging yet?

No, Saw barked at him, brandishing his finger authoritatively as he did. I’ll give you the results of your blood test when you’re done. Don’t stop digging until it’s at least six feet deep!

Grumbling, the man picked his shovel up, then went back to digging.

Kevin gave him his card.

Mal gave him a bigger shovel.

Thomas didn’t stop to look at them and kept marching off.

Fine, Saw said to Thomas. Here’s your discharge papers.

Thank you, Thomas said, stopping to take them from Dr. Saw.

Also, I’m prescribing you some medication for the pain, Dr. Saw said.

Thomas frowned quizzically at him.

But I’m not in any pain, Thomas said to him.

You haven’t seen the bill yet, Dr. Saw said, and handed him the hospital bill.

Thomas’ eyes slipped on the number of zeroes. It was astronomical.

What! Thomas said. I’m not paying this!

"You have to pay the bill or it’s our policy to sue