DEAD(ish) by Naomi Kramer

Smashwords Edition of
DEAD(ish) by Naomi Kramer – published 2009

The Boring Stuff
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    If you'd like to use
this ebook in ways not permitted by the license, get in contact
with me. I'm generally fair and reasonable. My email address is [email protected] .
    The cover art was
kindly provided by the talented artist, PJ Lyon. Check out his
other artwork, and his fiction, at http://www.fictionmonster.com .

Prelude
    "LOOK," he said, cutting across yet another
plea, "You're dead. You need to accept that."
    "But -"
    "No. Stop pretending to be alive. It's
stupid. It's creepy. Now GO. THE. HELL. AWAY."
    She crossed her arms and stared at him.
    "Never."
    He rolled his eyes and stomped away.
    Women! Can't live with 'em, can't escape even
by killing 'em.

Mike
    "You're like a priest, right? You aren't
allowed to testify against me and shit? Not quite? Oh, fuck it. I
don't care anymore. Help me out, I pay you, and then if you want
you can dob me in. I'm too tired to give a shit, I just wanna get
rid of the bitch.
    "So, I killed my girlfriend. Weirdly, it was
accidental. I say weirdly, because - but that's a whole 'nother
cricket game. Let's not go there, eh?
    "We were arguing because I saw her fucking
the next door neighbours – gay guys, go figure! - on their back
veranda. Both of them. High noon, bright daylight, but then the
backyard is only visible from one place – ours. And we were never
that interested in watching the naked, oil-slicked adventures that
went on there. Well I weren't. Wasn't. Obviously Linda was a bit
more interested than I'd thought. Guess they did make me look
bloody boring. Kama Sutra and oil and moans of ecstasy. Linda and I
went for good old missionary position and I came every time and she
never complained. That seemed good enough. Well, fuck me. I was
wrong.
    "Damn, I've lost track. Right. I killed
Linda. But like I say, it was accidental. I know all murderers say
that, except the freakazoids who eat people's faces while they're
alive and tied up, then fry their fingers and make haggis – shit.
Off topic again.
    "It was accidental. Just believe me. We were
arguing, she told me I fuck like a jellyfish (what the fuck?), and
I slapped her. One of those girly i'm-so-pissed-off-you-arsehole
slaps. I'd be embarrassed about that if there was anyone still
alive who saw it. Except me. But it knocked her off her stilettos
-the only things she was wearing except for a coating of oil –
stinking like a whorehouse in summer – and a smug smirk. It was the
smirk that did for me, but it was the high heels what did for
Linda. She went sideways and lost her balance on those tall, stupid
spiky things and went down, smacking her head on the 'occasional
table' with a nasty-sounding thump.
    "She died 12 or so hours later. In her sleep.
We'd called a truce and gone to bed and fucked (yeah, missionary
position) and slept. I woke up clutching a dead-cold cadaver that
wouldn't move so I could take a pulse.
    "Fuck. Reliving that has me crying like a
little girl. I'm off to get a beer. See you later."
    ****
    "Oh, fuck. You're back? How much did I drink
last night? And what the fuck is playing on my sound system?
Oh fuck, girly stalker music, just what I fucking need right now.
"
    The tide is high but I'm holding on
    I'm gonna be your number one
    "Fuck. My head is pounding in time to the
island beat, like someone's ramming a red-hot poker through it each
time. And I need to chuck. Fuck off for a bit while I surf the
porcelain bus. And turn off that bloody