deader, a sequel to dead

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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic

the dramatical comediacl yarn continues as albert blinkaster worms his deathly way through the hallways and ballways of purgator and mortal land in an effort to get to where ever his dead self is supposed to be going!






So I made the leap…Oh…did you read Dead…If not you better go find it and read it before you try to understand Deader…OK…OK.


 So I made the leap out of purgatory and landed in the mortal mass know to me as Jarron Janice, a Detective Inspector for the Metropolitan Police Services, Central Division.

What a piece of work he was but behind all his lard and smelly arm pits there was a glint of brilliance. At least I thought it was brilliance since he had such an insight into the criminal mind. I was sure that if I was going to discover the identity of the person who killed me with his know how and knowledge it would be a piece of cake. HA


In order to make the best use of Jarron Janice I  left his consciousness intact since it is his expertise I need to conduct my investigation; however, I  injected thoughts that he thought were his own, like; “Take over the Albert Blinkaster hit and run case. There is more to it than that.”

But there was something dark in his thoughts that I could not determine from the fringes of his mind. Foolishly I decided I did not want to know. Not yet anyway, but it was a really, really bad choice as I am sure you will agree to later.


Jarron Janice worked the nightshift. I thought it was because he figured this is when all the bad guys did the bad stuff but once again I was wrong. The truth is, though Janice did rifle through the files concerning my case I realized he was not much interested in being a cop. Therefore even though he might have done some perfunctory investigating into my death he had other more important things to take care of. In short, he was a dirty cop, and I don’t just mean hygienically. I discovered almost immediately that Inspector Jarron Janice used his position in the police services to bolster his own criminal activity and in fact he had such a grip on the city’s underworld it made me shudder.

I would like to tell you that we went out to start sleuthing my demise but the truth is that first shift went way out to a very dark left field and this is what happened.


Inspector Janice went to the station to sign in and start his watch. He picked up my case file just like I told him to then he went to his office sat down at his desk, poured himself a stiff whiskey and perused my file briefly. Then he closed it up, burped sneezed and farted as he reached for his phone that started beeping between the sneeze and fart.

“I’m busy,” Was his first response to the caller. Then he listened.

“Inspector Janice. You have to come to the rail yard, to old part where they keep the derelict engines and freight cars. Something has gone terribly wrong and we are afraid the lid might blow off out little enterprise. Someone found out what we are up to and has stolen the whole load.”

Janice uttered a couple of profanities and slammed the phone down. Then he lifted his lardy buttocks out of the chair and left the station.


His car smelled of cigarette smoke, booze and something else I could not identify and decided I’d rather not. I knew him in life and didn’t like him then but I never realized how much of a pig with a capital P he really was.

It was a long drive to the rail yard even at night because the shortest route was straight through town which is impossible to get through between 4 and seven pm and it was 5:30 so we took the long way which meant doing the land version of circumnavigating the city. It was nearly seven when we turned into the old rail yard, which by the way is also home to a few score of homeless folks, some not so nice. Janice seemed to be in his element as he drove through and most of the onlookers seemed to recognize him…fearfully.


Janice drove into a cluster of derelict freight cars. The breaks of his car squeaked as he stopped. He pushed the door open and grunted profusely as he struggled to get out of the car. I couldn’t help what came out of my thoughts which burst into his. “Fat ass.”

Janice looked around, his head jerking this way then that and barked in an angry voice, “Who the hell said that?”

Of course he didn’t get an answer because I was not really able to communicate in a conversational way with him. When no reply was given he began a waddling journey toward a group of men standing in the confines of four freight cars set in a square.




Jarron Janice walked confidently into the square spewing out orders and questions in between a slur of colourful adjectives, well one adjective used several times. No one seemed to be responding except to move their positions so that Janice was caught in a circle. I humoured over the conundrum of a circle in a square until all of a sudden the circle of men filled their hands with guns and started shooting, which was not the most brilliant thing to do because, though they did fill Jarron Janice full of lead and rendered him quite dead, they killed themselves with the over spray of bullets. So when the police responded to a report of shots being fired, by some anonymous caller, they not only found Jarron Janice’s corpse but seven others. Well, one was not quite a corpse and survived apparently to tell the police all about Janice and his bad cop enterprising.


I went straight back to purgatory central and was standing dismayed before the receptionist/ secretary again.

“What the blazes are you doing here? You couldn’t have solved your murder already?” She snarled.

I looked around the room and spotted Jarron Janice being ushered through a door on the other side of which was an inferno and from which came a waft air the smelled like rotten eggs aka sulfur. The six men that murdered Janice were lined up behind him. The secretary followed my gaze then blurted out. “Not again. He wasn’t supposed to get killed until New Years Eve. What is it with you? Are you some kind of masochist or something?

All I could do is shrug my shoulders and ask. “So now what?”

You just got Deader and that complicates things. You still have to find the person who killed your original body but now you have to deal with getting cleared for causing a premature death so you will need a purgatory Lawyer.”


“But for now you must go back and complete your first task and this time please…please try not to get yourself killed.” The secretary instructed.

“A little help wouldn’t hurt. After all this wasn’t my fault. I think it was your accounts department that screwed up and I am taking the fall for it.” I replied.

The secretary shrugged her shoulder then said, “Ok. I can assign you a guardian angel. The two of you should be able to get this mess sorted out.”

I waited while the secretary rang a bell. Just a little thing I could barely hear but enough that I heard ding, ding, ding ding ding, ding.

A second later my guardian angel appeared out of thin air. My heart skipped a dozen beats.

So there you go, end part two, Deader: Be sure to come back and pick up part three: Deadest.


Submitted: October 11, 2018

© Copyright 2020 Donald Harry Roberts. All rights reserved.

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Add Your Comments:



A purgatory Lawyer! Love it, DH, you and I seem to share a certain Grim humor!

Thu, October 11th, 2018 9:01pm


Thanks Hully

Thu, October 11th, 2018 2:31pm

Megan Fox

Death is such a revolving door these days. Your writing seems effortless, I must admit I envy the style.

Thu, October 11th, 2018 9:29pm

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