I may have been overconfident.
That may be an overstatement.
Apparently I am dead, but the system is pretending I am alive to “allow me time to adjust”. It is supposed to be a kindness, but it feels more like cruelty.
I don’t have the proverbial nine lives of a cat after all. Cats don’t even have the proverbial nine lives, it is just feline marketing.
Building a tolerance for iocaine may have been prudent, but it turns out there are plenty of other ways to die. Somehow, I slipped on a fish and got tangled in my pants. I think I must have been pushed, probably by a cat.
So far, I’m finding the whole afterlife experience to be kind of boring.
The weather is perfectly balmy. The handbook has an infinite number of pages. And the forks have a different number of tines every time I look at them.
If I do qualify for a reincarnation of some kind, I plan to give the Society of Gentlemen a piece of my mind.
Assuming they didn’t scrape up some pieces already.
I may have been a tad overconfident. But next time…