Strictly speaking, Alpha-Alpha was clinically dead. A single speck of intense bright white light flicked on in the dark. It expanded exponentially. Engulfing him totally. And then he was travelling down a tunnel. Swirling like a leaf on a liquid rainbow down the funnel. Intermission. Blinking frames of reference. Diffuse boundaries narrowing to blurred outlines. Focus. Figures. His accountant and broker dressed in black.
Where am I?
The other side of the balance sheet.
What?
Death is just the adjacent column to life in the great wheel – business cycle if you will - of double booking keeping.
Again: what?
It turns and from that you must profit or repay your debts. We have assessed the balance sheet and it appears you still have viable business left on earth.
Alpha-Alpha's heart began to pump as he read the quarterly turnover figures. He could reduce his tax exposure by donating to charity.
Even with the stroke of fortune, he hadn't missed a beat.
Leatherface Reflects
1 day ago
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