Rigor Mortis Dialogue

Gin & Bullet hosts a special guest today. Members of the rock band Led Zeppelin dared to visit the Underworld to play their act among the dead. Strobe lights start flashing out of the blue, startling two skeletons having a conversation of the greatest value. They walk towards the club's front façade, which is whitewashed and now all pink and purple, as if sprinkled with candy. It seems to be slightly quieter here, not much, but it allows for a smooth dialogue.

‘How long have you been here, my dear?’ Said the male skeleton with pronounced concern on his bony face.

‘Oh, not long, maybe a few days? I still feel rigor mortis stiffness. My bones quiver, and my fingers, or rather the bones themselves, are still cold…’

‘And they will be, my dear…’ He soothed her.

‘Yes, but I never expected that death could be as painful as bearing. It’s like those throes of childbirth keep shaking my body. Not that I’m complaining, but…’

‘It will never be better. Trust me. Even if rigor mortis wears off, we skeletons will have to go through other ailments. Like bone aches and fractures for instance due to calcium phosphate deficiency. It can cause posture problems with no chance of replenishment.’

‘Crikey! I went to a chiropractor once with this.’

‘I’m afraid that won’t help here. The afterlife is a whole different story, my dear.’

They both listened to music for a while. The singer surpassed himself with a thin voice that matched his body.

‘You have a very shapely chest, my dear.’ The male skeleton took up again.

‘Oh, thank you. It’s nice of you to say that.’

‘You know, that singer over there once won a contest for the best chest in rock? We had a lot of laughs here when it happened because we all really admire him here. And you can imagine our surprise when we found out he was coming to the Underworld. Our bony faces resembled pure joy!’

‘I was never fun of music. You see, my daughter, she was, oh, I think she still is. Forgive me, I still can’t get used to my current departed position. She was the one who constantly got herself into stalemate situations from which there was no clear way out. She kept telling me, Mum, reset your password, like it was some computer option hanging over our relationship. But I think she meant to look at our lives from a new point of view, which I could never promise her because perspective was never my domain, elusive as air. C’est la vie.’

‘Have you ever heard of the idea of not getting your emotions involved in everything you do just to keep your heart stone cold? I'm sure it's more of a hassle from a female point of view, but it can still be very helpful at this point.’

‘But how was I supposed to do it? Anyway, it's too late now that my body is already dead. I always believed that the soul would survive, but in life I could not imagine this actual situation. Well, how were we supposed to do it, that with all the parts neatly put together, body and soul, that one day like today we'd only be left with our soul.’

‘In my lifetime, I would go to the casino and look at the faces of these men, rarely women, who went there to lose or gain (which almost never happened as in the movies) fortune. There was something absent on their faces, as if they had never experienced what was happening around them, as if their bodies were already disconnected from their souls at that moment. From this standpoint, just by looking at these guys, I learned never to attach myself to anything earthly and live as if I were already dead. I think that helped me the most with the concept of the soul and now I take all the inconveniences of being a skeleton as a pleasure. In fact, I like it more than life itself, my dear.’

‘Lucky man. Have you had children in your lifetime?’

‘No, I'm afraid not. I wanted to, but since my life was short, I shall leave a permanent mark here.’

She rifled through her bag as if in search of something. After a minute of waiting, the man’s skeleton began to dig its bony feet into the gravel as if to discover gold beneath it. Then the skeleton woman took a tall black hat from her purse, apparently untouched by the squeeze in the hideout, and placed it on her bony head. The skeleton man looked at her in surprise, as if he had seen a saint, which in his circumstances was quite real to happen.

‘Lovely. Something to think about, I guess.’

Pianola started playing a 1920s jazz tune and other skeletons started leaving the place.

‘It’s time for us too. It was nice to meet you. I’ll see you around, yes?’

‘I think so. No way to leave this place anytime soon, huh?’

And the two skeletons went in opposite directions, but they left an indelible impression that they would soon meet again, and the author has no doubts about it. Scout’s honour.

– THE END –

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination, or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

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