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God Does Indeed Understand Irony
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God Does Indeed Understand Irony
Basically a strange way to die.
Has ideas but lacks talent and skill to commit completely to writing his perfect novel.
|AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (6)
Crazy Crash (Short Stories) Just plain stupid [645 words]
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Don't Mind Her, She's 'armless (Short Stories) Ugly people have feelings too. [1,000 words] [Horror]
In The End All Becomes Clear (Short Stories) When death comes knocking, do you open the door? [831 words] [Drama]
Is Evil Edible? (Short Stories) A very brief introductory work by a person who wishes he could write better than he can. [542 words] [Mystical]
Our Father Who Aren't In Heaven (Short Stories) A man searches for his father but will he find him? [3,026 words] [Thriller]
God Does Indeed Understand Irony
Heaven, interesting place although I have been brought here too early I think I could learn to like it here. Now if I had my way and a little bit of luck that everyone takes for granted I could still be alive and having a great time. Perhaps I canít use luck as an excuse. If I had of done something different earlier on then Iíd still be alive today.
It all started when I decided to go jeans shopping. Having arranged an interstate motorcycle holiday I decided to get some heavy denim jeans to help keep out the cold and offer better protection than the light weight ones. Friends advised me on the style and colour and with their advice I chose a black pair of Levis 505ís with the button up fly. Fashionable, chicks dig it, extra strong. These were the reasons explained to me over the purchase. I suppose the chick one clinched the deal and as a result I purchased them.
The holiday came and went, nothing out of the ordinary beautiful ride, extremely cold but I was depressed in so far as no women remarked on my button up fly. Over time the reluctance of the buttons to release faded and it got to the stage where by sheer concentration alone I could undo the fly, yes I accept the fact about stomach weight but no I will not recognise it as an excuse.
Life carried on normally, me flashing my fly at any woman in sight getting no response but little did I know that fate had taken me into her (cannot be a man, just cannot) arms and led me down that one way street called death Ave. Death Ave by the way is not only one way but also a dead end.
The last day of my life started normally enough, I got up and then woke up (subtle male humour there) and went about life as normal. I caught up with friends at the bar near the harbour bridge. This was probably now a mistake. After a few drinks I went outside for some fresh air. I noticed off to the side was one of those old Victorian lavatories on the side of the road. It was only used for the number one, where you go off do your business and then carry on. Being a connoisseur of old things I just had to try it out. This is where fate steps in. I was doing the business and had just finished when I tried to do up the fly, I did one then moved to next, only to have the other one pop back out and it is back to stage one. A zipper would be done in 3 seconds. I was trapped for 45-60 seconds scared of going out until it was completely tied up. During these 60 seconds a SRA bus came around the corner and with no brakes decided that the lavatory would make a great braking system, being old and steel it would put up quite a fight. It didnít I was crushed and killed instantly my body a crumpled up rag of useless limbs and fluid.
Upon my arrival here in heaven a small crown had gathered to view my arrival. I could sense the profound feeling of love but no familiarity and no one was here to welcome me who I knew or was related to. St Peter signed me in and once he read the reason for my death a smile appeared which he nearly did succeed in swallowing. The others were laughing too for I found out later they were the welcoming committee for the people who die in ironic ways and my way was up there with the best. I was not as good as the Arab guy who decided to check how much petrol was left in the tanker by using his bic lighter instead of a torch but I still got a few chuckles.
To all of you who hear my words remember this, it is better to be zipped then ah never mind piss off all of you and stop laughing at me.
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"Yes, stop laughing at the back there, this is a deeply sad tale that brings tears to the eyes . . . No, scrub that. it's hilarious." -- Moya Green, Tamworth, Uk.
"Loved the line: "Death Ave by the way is not only one way but also a dead end." It reminds me of that very old joke: "Do you know how to make God laugh? Tell him your plans for the future". Your story is clearly a parable with a profound message for us all. Not sure what but something along the lines of "The zip on your flies may well be a life-saver". Incidentally, I thought it was the Americans, not God, who kept getting accused of not understranding irony. Or am I trying to make an unreal distinction there?" -- David Gardiner, London, England.
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© 1999 Johnny Abrahams
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