Wasted

He slowly gets on his feet like baby learning to walk.His eyes slowly adjust to the darkness that it seemed he was at one with.“Is this Heaven or Hell?” He wonders. “Perhaps, this is Limbo.”

He manages to take a step forward even though his legs feel like lead. As his feet hit something that sounds like a bottle, the memories of his last moments start to return.

It had been just another frustrating day at his cubicle. His boss had called him to the office and handed him his sack letter. “Gross Misconduct,” the letter had said.

“Fuck it,” he said as he thrashed the letter in the bin right inside his boss’ office.

“Let’s get wasted,” he had said when he called up his friend, and that was exactly what they did.

His friend had left early because he had work the next day. Everything else was a blur.

He hears a loud trumpet and sees a tiny light at the end of what now looked like a long tunnel.

“The angels are coming,” he says, “they didn’t lie in sunday school.”

Angels are the light at the end of every tunnel, he concludes.

As the light becomes brighter and the trumpet louder, the last bits of his last moments returned to him.

He had wondered into a train station and jumped into the tunnel. He remembers taking a short nap… Somewhere.

“I’m not dead!” He screams.“Yet,” he didn’t add, because he realises seconds too late.

“Fuck!” He screams just in time for the train to do just that.

The train fucks him to pieces, grinding his bones and flesh to a fine blend.

It remains unknown where he went, Heaven or Hell. The only certainty is that he died as he had lived; wasted.