"J. Brian Clarke - Hell Aint What It Used To Be" - читать интересную книгу автора (Clarke Brian J)

HELL AIN'T WHAT IT USED TO BE
by J. Brian Clarke

PART 1
The beginning of the beginning.

After I died, I became a social worker.
It began when the Grim Reaper escorted me into an
office with three doors. The door through which we entered
was labeled C.S.W., the second H, the third E. There was an
antique desk with a computer on it, and an elderly woman in
a black dress behind it. After dismissing my anonymously
draped, sour smelling companion, she introduced herself.
"How do you do. You may call me Smith. Not Mrs Smith or
Ms Smith, just Smith."
"Oh really," I said, as I racked my brain in an attempt
to identify the woman. I was sure we had met before. "In
that case, I am Leo Ulster Vraskin. Not Mr Leo Ulster
Vraskin, just plain Leo Ulster Vraskin." I hoped I had not
overdone it.
"Yes Luv," she responded, using the acronym which since
grade school had clung to me like an unwelcome albatross. To
complete the putdown, she changed the subject. "What is the
last thing you remember?"
Somehow I restrained myself. "An operating room, I
think. Lights. People leaning over me."
"Very good. Actually, you were badly injured in an
automobile accident. They did their best, but--" A shrug of
narrow shoulders. "What do you expect? You were drunk at the
time."
I took a deep breath. "Am I really dead?"
A thin-lipped smile. "Oh yes."
"What is this place?"
"What do you think it is?"
"An office," I said.
The smile faded to sour. "That is not an answer."
My irritation notched up a level. "I asked first. What
is this place?"
"An office."
It was then I decided I was in Hell. So I told the lady
to go there.
She chuckled. It was dry, with no mirth.
I looked around for another chair, but there wasn't
one. So instead I looked around the room. The walls, except
where they were covered by the closed drapes behind the
desk, were of rich, unadorned dark wood. Other than a framed
newspaper clipping, there were no plaques or pictures. The
floor was covered with a thick carpet the same restrained
maroon as the drapes. Sparse yet dignified, the place
reflected its occupant like an outer garment.