Curare, and an unfortunate situation

‘I’m sorry, sir, but I have had a tough couple of days, so please tell me whether you want me to walk through the pearly gate or jump into the black hole?’

St. Peter looked up from his journal and said, ‘Take it easy; there is no rush. I must finish the paperwork, and I’m not a stenographer. Now, what I hear is confusing. Can you please tell me your story again from the beginning.’

I passed my hand through my hair, looked towards the blue sky, and took a deep breath and began. 

‘I was on my daily walk with my dog. The bush flies gave me a hard time. A few steps away from the footpath, among the bushes, I broke off a small branch with leaves to wave them off. A thorn scratched my finger. The stem released a lot of milk-white sap. I looked at my finger and realised I had inflicted a minor wound. The sap made the wound itchy, and then it became painful. I licked the wound to ease the pain, and I got dizzy, collapsed, and fell to the ground. Lying paralysed, I couldn’t open my eyes, but I could hear everything around me.

My dog was crying. I believe he licked my face and pushed me with his nose. I felt nothing, but I could hear him. Then I heard footsteps and two people talking. They were discussing whether I was dead or alive. A lady called an ambulance, and after a while, I could hear it coming. Someone said, “He has a weak pulse, but is breathing. Let’s take him in.”

I heard the ambulance engine rev up and the sound of driving with the siren on. After a while, the ambulance stopped, the doors opened, and I heard people running. There was a lot of mumbling, and someone said, “I’m sorry, but he has passed away. I can’t do anything more.”

I have not passed away, I thought, and got a bit agitated, but to no avail.

 I looked at St. Peter, who was busy writing notes. He stopped writing and said, ‘Please go on.’

I could hear some noises, but I did not know what was going on. I felt cold. Then I heard doors open, you know, swinging doors, and something banging against them. I heard a zipper being zipped up, the noise from a drawer being pulled out, and a minute later, pushed back. Then it was quiet.

My feet were freezing cold. I tried to bend my toes to get some blood flow. It worked, and I could move my feet. After a while, my hands and arms came to life. I could feel my surroundings, and I felt I was naked inside a kind of bag. I found a zipper in front of me, and after some searching, a small opening above my head with the zipper slider, but no pull tab. Of course, I said to myself, you idiot, there is no inside pull tab in a body bag!

I got a finger through the hole and moved the slider along the chain. I pushed my head out so I could breathe; it was a relief. But I soon discovered it was much colder outside the bag. With my hands pressed against the side walls, and with some kicking, I could move what I was lying on forward and backward. To my surprise, the entire structure moved forward, feet first, and I found myself in an open drawer in a large white room with several stainless-steel tables. I looked back and saw many drawers along the wall. I knew where I was: in a morgue, in drawer A3.

‘Please go on,’ St. Peter said without looking up. 

With some difficulty, I climbed out onto the floor. It was cold, and I looked around for some clothes, but there were none. Then I heard someone coming. The double doors flung open, and the lights went on while I was hiding under a bench along the wall. It was a man and a woman, dressed in white clothes, pushing a table on wheels with a corpse. The man said, ‘I thought there was a corpse in A3. Someone must have removed it for an autopsy. Let’s put him in the bag.’ 

They lifted the corpse up in the bag and pushed the drawer back. Then the couple stood in silence next to their table on wheels. I could only see their lower bodies. His hands were on her behind and down her pants. The woman giggled while panting. He pushed her towards my bench hideout. Her pants came down and then her knickers, followed by his pants and jocks. Believe it or not, they were having sex right on top of me. After much moaning, moving, and heavy breathing, they stopped. The man bent down and picked up the lady nickers and pants while she was giggling. Then he got his own stuff. I was lucky the light had gone out, and he didn’t see me. The couple got dressed, and the lights came on. They disappeared with their table through the swing doors. I was again alone.

St. Peter had an unusual smile over his lips when I described the sex scene. It looked like he found it interesting because he stopped writing. Now he tried to catch up and repeated himself, ‘Please, go on.’

In a cupboard, I found stacks of hospital shirts. You know these both patients’ and surgeons’ wear. They are to be tied at the back. I was cold and put a shirt on, but could not tie more than one set of bands. It was hard for me to reach the bands on the back. I ripped a shirt apart to make belts I could tie around my body. I also packed my feet in several layers and tied the cloth with straps around my ankle. 

I sat on a laboratory chair and reflected on my situation. It was night, and I thought it would be best for me to go home. I was thinking about my dog. I hoped he had found his way home to my wife.

‘Go on, go on,’ St. Peter said.

I opened one of the double doors and looked down a corridor. Only emergency lights were on and further away was a reception area with a bit of light. The lady who had visited the morgue was sitting there, but there was no sign of the man. I followed the green exit sign in the ceiling away from the reception area, sliding along on the washed vinyl floor in my white linen shoes. To my delight, I saw a taxi with lights on outside the main entrance. There was no guard at the desk, but his computer was on, showing pictures from surveillance cameras everywhere. I knew I was lucky to get undetected that far.

I approached the taxi and knocked on the window. Inside, the driver was having a nap and woke up staring at me.

‘Are you free?’ I asked. He nodded, and I slipped into the back seat. 

‘Where to?’ He asked. ‘47 St. Andrews Drive, please.’ 

He starred at me in the rear mirror while driving. The way he looked at me made me feel uncomfortable. 

Then he asked, ‘You are not escaping from the psycho, are you?’

 ‘No,’ I said, ‘I’m from the morgue.’ 

With his mouth wide open, the driver starred and starred in the rear mirror, paying little attention to where he was driving. The car veered to the right, flew across the road, and banged into a tree. I lost consciousness.

Shortly after, I woke up and felt a bit of a whiplash, but I was ok. The taxi driver was not ok. He was dead with his head smashed up. His sticky blood covered my face and the front of my hospital shirt.

St. Peter said, ‘Yes, his name is Tony. He passed by the other day, and he confirmed your story. Now, go on.’

I got the door open and, somewhat confused, walked down the street. I knew where I was. It was the main road called Liverpool Street. 

It was in the middle of the night, and I saw only a few people. A couple of drunks came towards me, but when I got closer, they seemed to panic and ran across the street, disappearing among the houses.

When I came home to our house, I found the doors locked and saw only the dim shine from the night lights inside. I knew we had a spare key, and after a bit of searching, I found it at the back of the house. 

At that point, I was utterly drained. I walked up the stairs to our bedroom and wondered how my lovely wife would receive me. She must have been informed that I was declared dead. 

The bedroom door was half open and when I looked at the bed, I realised something was not quite right. My wife was asleep, but there was a bloke on my side of the bed. 

Surprise took me, and I just stood there, not knowing what to do. Without even thinking about it, I pushed his shoulder to wake him up. He turned around and stared at me in disbelief. Without hesitation and with a growling scream, he flew up, naked, grabbed his clothes on my chair, pushed me aside, ran down the stairs, got outside, and slammed the main door behind him.

‘Now, what happened next?’ St. Peter exclaimed in an excited voice. 

My wife woke up by her bed-mate’s scream. She sat up, stared at me, and cried. Sobbing, she said, ‘How could you do that to me? How could you do that?’

 Stunned, I said, ‘I’m sorry, but it did not take long for you to find another bloke.’

‘That’s none of your business. You are dead and should have the decency to stay away until I can organise your funeral. You are awful. I should have divorced you a long time ago.’

Irritated, my wife got up, put on her dressing gown, passed me without a kiss, and went down the stairs. I followed her. 

In the kitchen, she switched the kettle on, took a tea mug out of the cupboard, preparing herself to make a cup of tea. 

I was standing in the doorway asking, ‘Can I have a mug as well?’

She looked firmly at my bloody face, grabbed a long kitchen knife, and pushed it into my chest. At first, I could feel nothing because it missed the ribs, but when it hit my heart, I could feel it. My heart wobbled, and I felt cold. Then everything went dark. Now I’m sitting here on your marble bench telling my story. So, what is your decision? Am I to go through the pearly gate or jumping into the black hole?

‘Not so fast,’ St. Peter exclaimed in a loud voice, making the angels turn their heads. ‘Considering your circumstances weighing against your long list of sins, I have applied on your behalf to the Holy Council. They may re-consider your case. You must wait a few millennia for their decision. There is a long queue.’

Note: Curare is a common name for various alkaloid arrow poisons originating from plant extracts. Used as a paralysing agent by indigenous peoples in Central and South America for hunting and for therapeutic purposes, curare only becomes active when it contaminates a wound. These poisons cause weakness of the skeletal muscles and, when administered in a sufficient dose, eventual death by asphyxiation because of paralysis of the diaphragm. In medicine, curare is used as a treatment for tetanus and strychnine poisoning, and as a paralysing agent for surgical procedures. Wikipedia.