You Are a Ghost. (Sign Here Please) Read online

“Not any more than usual.”

  “Any sense of depression? Thoughts of suicide since you’ve become a ghost?”

  “Not really, no. I was a little unhappy when I found out that I couldn’t pick up a pelican.”

  Dr. Vegatillius waved this aside.

  “That’s perfectly normal. Good. This sounds like a cut and dry case of ghostitis, but you don’t have any psych symptoms so we don’t have to send you to see the psychologist. Excellent. So, Mr. Haynes, I have good news and bad news. The bad news is that you are dead. The good news is that because of your brain lesion, you do not fear death or perceive being dead as a bad thing.”

  “Hooray,” Nathan said after Vegatillius explained this second point. “But I was hoping that you could help me, doctor. I don’t want to be a ghost anymore, and we thought you might be able to give me a new body to live in. Do you have a new body for me?”

  Vegatillius thought about this for a while, tapping his pen against his chin in what he thought was a very professional, pensive way. After a few seconds he told Nathan what he’d already worked out minutes ago.

  “Yes, we could find a new body for you. Do you remember when you died here last time, Nathan?”

  “I had a stroke and was crushed by a falling bathtub while being mauled by a badger,” Nathan recalled. “I don’t think it was very fun.”

  “No, but afterwards you let me have the body you left behind. I ran some tests on it and subsequently interred it in the university’s graveyard. We can go dig it back up and see if we can restore it to working order.”

  “How are you going to restore a dead body to working order?” Brian asked.

  “Well, as it happens we have several copies of Nathan’s corpse, not just that one,” Dr. Vegatillius explained. “He has died many times, you will recall, and I recovered most of his bodies. Possibly by cannibalizing the old ones for spare parts, we will be able to fix at least one body. Unfortunately, in most of Nathan’s deaths there was considerable damage to his head. However, I’m not a neurobiologist for nothing, and I can try to fix things up. It’s worth a try. Let’s go out to the graveyard and see what we can find. Let me grab my corpse shovel.”

  Vegatillius grabbed a large, square-bladed shovel and then, without waiting for anyone else to comment, marched out of the room whistling.

  The others followed him out to the university graveyard. Dead Donkey University’s graveyard was a smallish plot of land on the northeastern side of the university with a few hundred tombstones and graves with wreaths of flowers laid on them.

  It was probably for the best that no one stopped to wonder why the university had a graveyard. Most of the epitaphs and inscriptions on the graves were things like, “Here lies Carl Branko, tried to swallow thirty pounds of ice cream and failed,” or “Alphonse Rabbie, born 1988, university student 2006-2010, graduate student 2011-2015, sulfur hexafluoride researcher 2016, deceased 2016.” One young woman was kneeling over a grave, sobbing and weeping. Dr. Vegatillius gave her a consoling pat on the shoulder as he started energetically shoveling at Nathan’s adjacent, unmarked grave.

  “I’m sorry for your loss,” Nathan told her, to cover the awkward sounds of Vegatillius shifting earth.

  “I don’t understand,” the woman cried. “He’d only been trying to tightrope walk across a hundred foot high rope made of razor wire in a thunderstorm while flying a kite and cutting up a poisoned apple with a butcher’s knife, and he died! Where did we go wrong?”

  She continued to cry hysterically.

  Vegatillius unearthed Nathan’s coffin suspiciously quickly, almost as if he had a lot of experience doing this kind of thing. Nathan frowned. They didn’t seem to have buried him very deep and he thought he deserved better than a shallow two-foot grave. He resolved to file a complaint with the bureaucratic complaints department if he ever died again. Meanwhile, Brian and Travis consented to help Vegatillius haul the coffin back inside the building, trailing dirt as they went. Nathan was not very helpful for this part of the proceeding, as he could not grasp the coffin at all because he was intangible. He resorted to providing moral encouragement, but subsequently forgot he was trying to do this and spent most of the time humming a cereal jingle, which on the whole reduced everyone’s will to help him rather than increasing it.

  Eventually, the coffin was hauled into the neurobiology department, adjacent to Dr. Vegatillius’ office. They plopped the structure on the table, whereafter Dr. Vegatillius pried open the coffin. Inside, they found Nathan’s corpse - surprisingly intact, all things considered. Dr. Vegatillius turned up his nose at it and started spraying liquid air freshener into the coffin.

  “Phew,” he said. “It stinks. Oh well. That’s to be expected. Now, help me load Nathan’s body into the scanner. I need to take a look at its brain.”

  Despite the unpleasantness of the task, Travis and Brian agreed. After Vegatillius took several full body scans of the corpse, he then kicked everyone else out of the Neurobiology Department, saying he had very important and secretive work to do. He started making the humming noise again, which caused Nathan to start humming his cereal jingle, very much out of sync with the noise Dr. Vegatillius was making. Crackling, whirring, and banging noises seeped out of the neurobiology department, leading everyone else in the room to wonder what Dr. Vegatillius was doing in there.

  Let us take a short break from bureaucracy and Nathan to discuss the subject of toenails.

  We are all familiar with toenails, which grow annoyingly large and have to be clipped from time to time, often in parallel with the fingernails. This is by itself only right and proper, since we undertake this endeavor only when the toenail gets uncomfortably long. However, when we do this, we often lose sight of the bigger question of why we have toenails at all. They serve no obvious function. Unlike the fingernails, one does not use one’s toenails to grasp at things. It is almost impossible to grab something with your toenails, and normally you wouldn’t want to anyway. You do not use them to fight or work or even impress prospective romantic interests, since they just sit hidden inside your shoes and socks all day. Even if they weren’t, toenails are of no use in walking or day to day life. They just sit there and grow and have to be groomed and clipped some times to stop you from accidentally mauling yourself with them if they get too big. In short, we are compelled to ask, why do we have toenails?

  The truth is that toenails form an immensely important part of the process of reconstituting one’s former body or bodies in the event that one should ever happen to become a ghost. We are all familiar with the movie version of resurrection, wherein Dr. Frankenstein yells at Igor to throw a switch during a lightning storm, thereby channeling a bolt of lightning into the body of the monster, which sits upright and starts to moan incoherently about its day thereafter. However, this is nothing more than a sad example of Hollywood misleading the public. To actually restore a body to life, it is immensely important that the toenails remain intact. As long as the toenails are intact, the ghost can return to the body and restore it to life. If Hollywood was accurate, the movie would have Dr. Frankenstein shouting at Igor, “restore the toenails, Igor! Restore the toenails!” and Igor would wring his hands and shuffle around before doing as the doctor commanded.

  Dr. Vegatillius devoted a lot of attention to ensuring that Nathan’s toenails were intact. They were. After he was sure of that, he began to repair the various other injuries to Nathan’s body using parts from Nathan’s other bodies that he had collected and subsequently stored up. By the end of it, Nathan’s body was repaired.

  Vegatillius emerged from the neurobiology department sweating and carrying a large meat tenderizer.

  “Good as new,” he declared. “Do you think operating on a dead body that’s shortly to be restored to life counts as a surgery? Because if so I could bill for the surgery.”

  “I didn’t know you were a surgeon,” Nathan said cheerily.

  “I’m not exactly a licensed surgeon, but that’s just bureaucracy.”


  “Just bureaucracy?” Brian choked with rage.

  “We don’t much hold with bureaucracy here in Dead Donkey,” Vegatillius said. “Now, let me show you your body.”

  The four marched into the Neurobiology Department, where Nathan’s body was sprawled out on the table. Whereas it had previously been grimy and unpleasant, it now looked absolutely spotless. It was practically gleaming - factory condition. Vegatillius had even repaired Nathan’s grubby slacks and t-shirt.

  “Go on,” Vegatillius said, gesturing to the body. “Try it on.”

  “Alright,” Nathan agreed, and approached it. “How do I...?”

  “Try phasing into it through the bottom, near the feet,” Vegatillius advised.

  Nathan slowly, stutteringly, approached the body. He gingerly began to phase through it. His twisting, ethereal form overlapped and began to intertwine with the flesh and blood of his corpse. The two became entangled and misty, the ectoplasm of his ghostly form whipping around the solid one like gas, seeping into every pore like a video of a leak but in reverse, with Nathan’s spirit slowly fading into the body. Then, at last, the strangely discolored manifestations of Nathan’s ghost disappeared. All that remained was the body on the table.

  Nathan blinked and sat up.

  “This is great!” he exclaimed happily. “I’m alive again!”

  His mind whirred with all the things he wanted to do now that he was alive. Nothing came to mind, so he just started to hum happily again. This prompted Dr. Vegatillius to start making his own humming noise.

  “Excellent,” Travis said. “Now that you have been resurrected, Nathan, I think it is vitally important that we leave the city of Dead Donkey as soon as possible. The bureaucrats will be looking for you here, and they have already started to move against you.”

  “Oh, you always want me to leave Dead Donkey, Travis.”

  “That is because this is not a very nice place to be, and you keep dying here.”

  “Yes, but it always works itself out in the end,” Nathan answered. “Nothing to worry about.”

  “About that,” Dr. Vegatillius said. “There actually is a lot to worry about. Nathan, I just combined five of your bodies to restore this one, single body to working condition. If you die and become a ghost again, I probably won’t be able to repair this body again, so you will have to remain a ghost.”

  Nathan stared at him blankly.

  “Every time you become a ghost, you need a body to inhabit in order to come back to life,” Vegatillius explained patiently. “Dying wrecks your body. Thus, for every time you come back to life, you need a new body. Do you understand? That’s the pigeonhole principle.”

  For those who don’t know, the pigeonhole principle is the logical, mathematical, and scientific principle that if you have too many pigeons and not enough pigeonholes, the pigeons will get mad at you. A lot of people might wonder where these uppity pigeons get off, refusing to room together - they’re only pigeons, brains the size of peas - whereas humans share rooms quite happily, but no, His Majesty the pigeon needs his own fancy hole to live in, otherwise he gets mad... but, as anyone who lives in a big city knows, pigeons have ways to make your life very unpleasant if they don’t have enough pigeonholes. If you have ever woken up to find your house, car, roof, or dog covered in pigeon poop, it is probably because you have angered the pigeons by failing to provide them enough pigeonholes. Build them more pigeonholes and they won’t poop on your car anymore. That is the crux of the pigeonhole principle.

  Nathan, who liked pigeons almost as much as he liked ducks, understood and nodded.

  Brian rubbed his hands together in that bureaucratic manner of his. Now that Nathan had come back to life, his plan to get revenge on both Nathan and Director Fulcher could be put into motion. However, before he could suggest it to Nathan, there was a knock on the door to the neurology department. Dr. Vegatillius stood and opened it.

  A dejected, lethargic-looking man in coveralls with his shoulders slouched and his hands in his pockets shuffled slowly into the room. His face was squashed and unpleasant, the unpleasantness accentuated by the dopey frown he was wearing.

  “I’m not really being paid enough to kill you a second time,” he said unhappily.

  “Oh goodness, not this again!” Nathan exclaimed. “Everyone, this is my new serial killer, Ernie. Say hello to him.”

  Travis bridged his fingers together and regarded the serial killer shrewdly. Brian looked at the man in coveralls in surprise. Dr. Vegatillius reacted angrily.

  “Hold on a minute,” Vegatillius said. “I’m the unlicensed surgeon. If anyone’s going to do any killing here, it’s me.”

  “Technically we are all unlicensed surgeons,” Brian pointed out automatically, drawing another annoyed glance from Dr. Vegatillius.

  Meanwhile, Nathan was clearing a space for Ern, the serial killer, on a chair and lowered him into it, determined to make him feel comfortable.

  “Come on now,” he said. “It’s not all bad. I’m sure you can find it in yourself to kill me a second time.”

  “I’m not really paid enough to argue,” Ern answered. He glanced around the room. “And you have all these other people with you. I’m not paid enough to silence witnesses. Last time I wasn’t paid at all because you came back to life. I don’t see the point in murdering you any more.”

  “That’s no way to talk,” Nathan scolded him. “I’m sure you’ll be able to just take out your pistol and shoot all of us if you really put your mind to it.”

  “Why are you encouraging him?” Brian exclaimed.

  “Because look how sad and unmotivated he is,” Nathan shot back. “This is what serial killing has come to in Dead Donkey. I remember when your serial killer would walk right up to you and shake your hand with a smile. These days it’s all different-”

  “No, Nathan, you can’t die again!” Brian roared. “Weren’t you just listening to anything Dr. Vegatillius said? He doesn’t have another body for you if you die in this one.”

  “Oh,” Nathan said. He looked uncertainly at Ern for a moment. “Still, I hate to see a serial killer look so down. Why not try to kill me one more time? See, they even say I can’t come back to life again. It’ll work this time. Go ahead.”

  “Fine,” Ern said with a sigh and drew out his pistol. He very slowly started to load it.

  “You idiot,” muttered Brian, and grabbed Nathan by the hand. If this was how easily Nathan planned to die, he would have to reorganize his master revenge agenda and account for Nathan dying at least once. Still, he hadn’t worked out the details yet, so for the moment he needed Nathan alive. He ran out the door, dragging Nathan with him. Nathan, who was used to floating, ran a bit like a baby faun, which is to say badly. He stumbled and tripped over his own legs and had a few near misses with the ground.

  Travis jogged unconcernedly behind them.

  “Nathan isn’t an idiot,” he countered. “He just has a very different perspective on things from you, bureaucrat. He does not fear death.”

  “That’s what makes him an idiot, you anarchist,” Brian snapped back. “That and he can’t seem to pay attention and remember things for more than two seconds.

  “I have a brain lesion-” Nathan started, trying to make an excuse to counter all this criticism.

  “I know you do,” Brian cut in, and they continued running across the field and into the religion fair. Not far behind them, Ern had loaded his pistol and was jogging half-heartedly behind them.

  “I am not paid enough to chase you,” he called after them.

  “Have you stopped to wonder who is paying him, exactly?” Travis asked. “Who wants you dead so badly, Mr. Haynes? Surely it’s not the bureaucrats.”

  “No, the forms for hiring a contract killer are immensely complicated and couldn’t be prepared on such short notice,” Brian snapped back. “Of course it’s not us bureaucrats. We’ll talk about it when we finish running away.”

  As they careened through the fair, past the Sock Puppe
t Dignity Movement and the Cult of Dave, a stranger from the crowd suddenly began to jog up next to Nathan and Brian.

  “Hello friends,” the stranger said cheerily. He was of middling height with an athletic build and short-cut brown hair.

  “What do you want?” Brian asked. He was in a very bad mood. Everything in Dead Donkey was out of order and did not fall in line with statutory norms, and now on top of that he was being chased by a serial killer, so he didn’t really feel like tolerating much more nonsense.

  “I just happened to notice you were running away from that tired-looking man with a pistol,” the athletic stranger said.

  “Yes, so what?”

  “My name is Colton Barrett, and I’m a professional at running away. My card.” He handed them a card which had a name, contact information, and a logo of a man running away. The text below said: “vicious dogs fled, pursuing policemen evaded, muggers lost, no job too small.”

  “What is a professional at running away?” Brian asked.

  “It’s what it sounds like,” Colton explained. “If you ever find yourself in a situation like this one, why bother to run away yourself? Leave it to the professionals. You can take a rest and I’ll do the running for you.”

  Though Colton did not have time to explain it, professional running away was a very lucrative business in Dead Donkey, given the size of the market. These days, skilled professionals were constantly offering their services to people in jeopardy of being caught by muggers, politicians, or Muleball players.

  “That sounds like a good idea,” Nathan said, wheezing and almost out of breath. “How much do you charge?”

  “The first one’s free,” Colton explained.

  “Great! Can you take over this chase for us?”

  “Sure! Just, please, keep me in mind the next time you have to flee someone and give me a call.”

  And Colton went darting off with the speed of a professional runner-away while Ern, huffing and wheezing, chased after him and waved his pistol. Nathan and Brian slowed to a halt, while Travis jogged slowly behind them.