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| "Tom?.....Tom who?" |
20: ”MADAME ENCARTA.”
It was smelly, dark and damp – but being dead I was used to that!
I passed through the door easily and fell onto the brightly tiled floor. A large ginger cat was eating from a red bowl marked 'Freddie' – it took one look, his fur stood on end and screaming loudly, jumped through the kitchen window – pity, he didn't open it first.
Glass crashed about me and I could hear footsteps, I didn't bother hiding because I was back in the land of the living and they couldn't see me anyway.
The kitchen door flew open and an old woman stuck her head in: “Freddie you little f***r! I'm gonna skin your miserable ginger hide!”
She looked like that old actress Margaret Rutherford, but without the charm obviously.
The old lady screamed at the top of her voice and a half filled vodka bottle passed through my body and smashed against the wall behind me.
“Do you mind! That's bloody rude!” I laughed out loud, then realised she could see and hear me! Madame Encarta collapsed at my feet and covered her face with both hands.
“Go away! Go away! I didn't mean anything about it, I was just trying to earn a few bob!” she sobbed, peering through her fingers at me and I had the strangest feeling that I knew this crazy old woman!
“So you can see and hear me why would that surprise you?” I asked, reading the brochures on the kitchen table which extolled her incredible gift for communicating with the deceased – for a modest £75 a session – nice work if the suckers kept coming……
She said nothing more for a few minutes and then eased herself up slowly, opening a nearby cupboard and removing a bottle of cheap Vodka, she unscrewed the cap and took a large swig, coughing, she dropped onto a plastic chair by the fridge and lit an evil smelling cigarette that made her cough even more.
“Christ Tom! You ain't changed a bit, still wearing that f*****g tartan waistcoat and those shitty plimsolls from bloody Woolworth's!” She wiped tears from her eyes and took another mouthful of vodka and coughed loudly as she exhaled the smoke from her cigarette.
“Where the hell did you get that stupid beret?” She added and wiped her face with the back of her hand. But unsmiling, she whispered: “Don't recognise me Tom?”
Totally surprised, I shook my head and stared long and hard at the old woman who was cleaning her haggard face with a piece of kitchen paper. She laughed out loud and then gave a couple of little sobs and wiping her face again, gulped down more vodka.
“Who the hell are you?” I whispered, knowing that I didn't really want to know the answer.
Her deep green eyes fixed upon me and I already knew.
“You’re f*****g widow!” She exclaimed spitting out Vodka and smoke like a drunken dragon.
I bowed my head and said simply: “Sorry girl, I just didn't recognise you!”
“Well, that's not bleeding surprising numb-nuts, it's been thirty years since you disappeared – But I knew you were dead, along with that f*****g whore of a girlfriend you killed.” She smiled broadly and raised the half empty Vodka bottle in a mock salute.
I was staggered and shocked; I had been dead for 30 years!!! It seemed just like yesterday – bloody hell, time flies when you’re dead!
“She was alive when I left, that's a fact Debra, I didn't kill her.” I was pacing up and down the small kitchen, with my head swimming with thoughts and memories. I stopped at the RSPCA calendar and read the date – 2012.
Madame Encarta/Debra was right; I had passed over in 1982!
That's when we both heard the large crashing noise from the other room.
“Now what the f**k is happening!” Madame Encarta cursed loudly and staggered to her feet – then head first, fell through the kitchen door and lay drunk upon the floor of the lounge. I peered through the open door and saw Larde helping Max to his feet, Maude was examining the table which was set up for another séance, and she laughed loudly at the Crystal Ball: “Sweet Jesus, do people still believe that a bit of bogging class can summon us!”
Norman jumped from her arms and bounded up to me; they all looked round and smiled.
“Tom you dirt-bag, what happened?” She waved a magic thigh bone and added “We had to borrow this from MR. Death and get Lily to help to find you!”
I was so pleased to see them that I hugged each in turn – even Larde, though I would have to wash my clothes now.......
Lily emerged from behind the broken TV and slapping me on the back said “I'm like a bloodhound when one of mine is in trouble George.” She glanced down at Madame Encarta who was dribbling over the carpet and snoring loudly, “What is that?” She asked.
I took a deep breath and said simply: “It's the wife.”
Maude curled up with laughter, whilst Larde examined the missus, and taking a swig from his tin, commented: “She's a cracker Tom, a real [unable to translate] you bleeding twat!”
Max peered with some curiosity at the recumbent old woman and added: “I've seen better after the lions had played with them.” Madame Encarta was now muttering obscenities in her drunken stupor.
Wiping tears of mirth from her eyes, Maude managed to say: “Tom, do you know there's a dead cat in the Birdbath?”
“Yeah, it's Freddie.” I replied patting Norman; I now recalled that he had been with me, the night I died.
“Who the hell is Freddie?” Asked Max, looking around for another spirit to join the throng. His wish was granted, except it wasn't the late ginger puss Freddie, but a particularly nasty piece of work called Colonel Harold Ass-Bucket, pronounced 'Has-bouquet' by himself (1818 - 1865) A 'Soul-Sucker' with an evil reputation.
“Nothing for you here mate.” She said, pointing over to Lily, who was still examining Madame Encarta – That's when I realised what Maude meant, a 'Soul-Sucker' won't get up to anything whilst there's a 'Spirit-Guide' around the place, since they can summon assistance from the G-Men, who had the power to deal with these creatures.
He simply grinned and stroking his moustache, bowed and said: “I'm here to help you comrades, the 'Boss' is most concerned about Tom.”
He held up his right hand and I saw a replica of the ring I wore – given by MR. Death, so this evil bugger was also employed by MR. Death – not surprising that, but I half expected to hear jingling bells and Morris dancing music.......
“George, you’re moving in some dangerous circles.” Was Lily's comment and she wagged a finger at me with total disapproval in her voice.
Madame Encarta sat bolt upright and looked about the room: “Holy f**k! Thirty years trying to contact the dead, and nothing. Then f*****g loads turn up! And I haven't been paid a shitting penny! Bollocks!” She collapsed upon the floor and started snoring again.
Both Lily and Maude were impressed: “Tom, you should have said that your wife was a 'Live Passer' – that's fantastic news.” Maude added with a sarcastic grin on her face. Lily just laughed out loud and said that real living passer's were quite rare.
“Well, she certainly saw us [unable to translate] even pissed.” Mused Larde, trying to drag Max from his back, where he was attempting to hide.
“The Boss wants you back; he has a mission for you.” Ass-Bucket spoke, studying the various old photographs that adorned Madame Encarta's living room which was full of dead people.
Maude peered over Ass-bucket's shoulder and frowned, “Tom, does your lovely wife have any connections with the theatre?” and pointed to a large black & white print upon the wall.
“Well, when she was young, she was quite a drama queen, apart from that, no.”
I studied the picture with Maude; it was a Victorian photograph of some old theatre's stage with the cast assembled. “Its looks like 'Romeo and Juliet' by the costumes and stage setting, probably the 1880's or 1900's.” added Maude.
Neither Ass-Bucket nor Larde were mistaken or insane: It was indeed Maude and I, or our twins. “It is me. I remember this picture was taken when the play opened in April 1880, in Birmingham at the 'Apollo' Theatre – that's where William shot me.” She whispered and turned away, being comforted by Lily. But the strange look on her pretty face perturbed me.
“How the feck did I get in the damn picture?” I was now completely confused, How did I appear in a picture some seventy years before I was even born? Why did my crazy old wife keep it on her wall? It also means I was there when Shit-head William murdered poor Maude. This death lark can be frigging confusing sometimes....
“Well, if Tom and you were there, how come you two didn't recognise each other when you met in the afterlife?” A voice from the back of the room added. We looked around in surprise – it was Big Boy Frank! Stepping from the elevator which had appeared next to the inert figure of Madame Encarta.
Strangely enough, the Floor Indicator was showing 'Warning! The Madhouse!'
He was greeted with smiles and handshakes by everyone – except Ass-Bucket who stood in the corner with a fixed smile upon his face. “Soon as I heard you had disappeared, I assigned myself the case, and bingo!”
Maude patted Big Boy Frank's shoulder and said:” It's alright Frank, he's been no trouble, he's actually been helping, so if you haven’t got anything on him, best let him wander off.”
Big Boy Frank nodded, “Well, if that's the case – I have nothing outstanding on him.” He replaced the deadly bag of water back in his pocket.
Ass-Bucket simply nodded at me and smiled - he tossed a coin and was gone.
“Wait a minute!” Exclaimed Maude with real excitement in her voice, “There was another man there when the picture was taken, he wasn't part of the company, and he was a....he was a.....” She repeated herself, thinking hard, and pacing the floor with deliberation.
Maude slapped her hands together with joy. “Or that's what you said you were.” She added with a smile and gripped my shoulders: “I often thought I had known you before, you’re quite an unforgettable jerk!” Coming from Maude that was a compliment – I think?
“He's got an bulge in his trousers and what's he doing with that fire-bucket?" Lily pointed to the figure and she was right, who-ever it was had bulging trousers and was apparently doing something with a fire-bucket! I couldn't make out the figure behind him, standing in the shadows, but even he looked familiar!
“I definitely think it's me.” I said quietly, and everyone nodded, except Max, who had appeared from behind the sofa, now that Ass-Bucket had gone, and said “Who the hell is William?”
We ignored him totally and then another voice joined the conversation.
“Who the f**k had the f*****g cheek to summon me?, I don't want to come running when some f*****g 'Lifer' b*****d calls me, I AM THE KING! You arse licking dogs!”
For once, we were all speechless – it was a Medieval Knight!!
And boy was he pissed off!
No. 20 OF A 'SKELETON'S LIFE SERIES:
Copyright © 2011-2021 Stephen Williams. No reproduction of any part without permission.
It was smelly, dark and damp – but being dead I was used to that!
I passed through the door easily and fell onto the brightly tiled floor. A large ginger cat was eating from a red bowl marked 'Freddie' – it took one look, his fur stood on end and screaming loudly, jumped through the kitchen window – pity, he didn't open it first.
Glass crashed about me and I could hear footsteps, I didn't bother hiding because I was back in the land of the living and they couldn't see me anyway.
The kitchen door flew open and an old woman stuck her head in: “Freddie you little f***r! I'm gonna skin your miserable ginger hide!”
She looked like that old actress Margaret Rutherford, but without the charm obviously.
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| "Madame Encarta..........Is that Freddie around her neck?" |
I was to discover that she was a medium called Madame Encarta, who until now had only contacted spirits that resided in bottles – vodka bottles – and I was about to discover something even worse...
The old lady screamed at the top of her voice and a half filled vodka bottle passed through my body and smashed against the wall behind me.
“Do you mind! That's bloody rude!” I laughed out loud, then realised she could see and hear me! Madame Encarta collapsed at my feet and covered her face with both hands.
“Go away! Go away! I didn't mean anything about it, I was just trying to earn a few bob!” she sobbed, peering through her fingers at me and I had the strangest feeling that I knew this crazy old woman!
“So you can see and hear me why would that surprise you?” I asked, reading the brochures on the kitchen table which extolled her incredible gift for communicating with the deceased – for a modest £75 a session – nice work if the suckers kept coming……
She said nothing more for a few minutes and then eased herself up slowly, opening a nearby cupboard and removing a bottle of cheap Vodka, she unscrewed the cap and took a large swig, coughing, she dropped onto a plastic chair by the fridge and lit an evil smelling cigarette that made her cough even more.
Not once did she take her eyes off me, then she sighed loudly and shook her head.
“Where the hell did you get that stupid beret?” She added and wiped her face with the back of her hand. But unsmiling, she whispered: “Don't recognise me Tom?”
Totally surprised, I shook my head and stared long and hard at the old woman who was cleaning her haggard face with a piece of kitchen paper. She laughed out loud and then gave a couple of little sobs and wiping her face again, gulped down more vodka.
“Who the hell are you?” I whispered, knowing that I didn't really want to know the answer.
Her deep green eyes fixed upon me and I already knew.
“You’re f*****g widow!” She exclaimed spitting out Vodka and smoke like a drunken dragon.
We were both silent, then I remembered what she was like when we first married: young, beautiful, witty and with the best legs I'd ever seen. I also remembered why Debra had divorced me: because I was a cheating, lying arsehole of a man who ran with the wrong crowd and made her life a misery.
I bowed my head and said simply: “Sorry girl, I just didn't recognise you!”
“Well, that's not bleeding surprising numb-nuts, it's been thirty years since you disappeared – But I knew you were dead, along with that f*****g whore of a girlfriend you killed.” She smiled broadly and raised the half empty Vodka bottle in a mock salute.
I was staggered and shocked; I had been dead for 30 years!!! It seemed just like yesterday – bloody hell, time flies when you’re dead!
“Wait a minute, I now remember you, but I didn't kill Candy Moore – I know that for certain!” I was puzzled, I could visualise her, throwing various bits of furniture at me, screaming and crying as I walked away.
Madame Encarta/Debra was right; I had passed over in 1982!
“Now what the f**k is happening!” Madame Encarta cursed loudly and staggered to her feet – then head first, fell through the kitchen door and lay drunk upon the floor of the lounge. I peered through the open door and saw Larde helping Max to his feet, Maude was examining the table which was set up for another séance, and she laughed loudly at the Crystal Ball: “Sweet Jesus, do people still believe that a bit of bogging class can summon us!”
Norman jumped from her arms and bounded up to me; they all looked round and smiled.
“Tom you dirt-bag, what happened?” She waved a magic thigh bone and added “We had to borrow this from MR. Death and get Lily to help to find you!”
I was so pleased to see them that I hugged each in turn – even Larde, though I would have to wash my clothes now.......
Lily emerged from behind the broken TV and slapping me on the back said “I'm like a bloodhound when one of mine is in trouble George.” She glanced down at Madame Encarta who was dribbling over the carpet and snoring loudly, “What is that?” She asked.
I took a deep breath and said simply: “It's the wife.”
Maude curled up with laughter, whilst Larde examined the missus, and taking a swig from his tin, commented: “She's a cracker Tom, a real [unable to translate] you bleeding twat!”
Max peered with some curiosity at the recumbent old woman and added: “I've seen better after the lions had played with them.” Madame Encarta was now muttering obscenities in her drunken stupor.
Wiping tears of mirth from her eyes, Maude managed to say: “Tom, do you know there's a dead cat in the Birdbath?”
“Yeah, it's Freddie.” I replied patting Norman; I now recalled that he had been with me, the night I died.
“Who the hell is Freddie?” Asked Max, looking around for another spirit to join the throng. His wish was granted, except it wasn't the late ginger puss Freddie, but a particularly nasty piece of work called Colonel Harold Ass-Bucket, pronounced 'Has-bouquet' by himself (1818 - 1865) A 'Soul-Sucker' with an evil reputation.
 |
| "Colonel Harold Ass-Bucket - Soul Sucker!" |
Max huddled close to Larde who shoved him over the sofa, whilst Maude folded her arms with total contempt upon her pretty face and looked our visitor up and down.
“Nothing for you here mate.” She said, pointing over to Lily, who was still examining Madame Encarta – That's when I realised what Maude meant, a 'Soul-Sucker' won't get up to anything whilst there's a 'Spirit-Guide' around the place, since they can summon assistance from the G-Men, who had the power to deal with these creatures.
He simply grinned and stroking his moustache, bowed and said: “I'm here to help you comrades, the 'Boss' is most concerned about Tom.”
He held up his right hand and I saw a replica of the ring I wore – given by MR. Death, so this evil bugger was also employed by MR. Death – not surprising that, but I half expected to hear jingling bells and Morris dancing music.......
“George, you’re moving in some dangerous circles.” Was Lily's comment and she wagged a finger at me with total disapproval in her voice.
Madame Encarta sat bolt upright and looked about the room: “Holy f**k! Thirty years trying to contact the dead, and nothing. Then f*****g loads turn up! And I haven't been paid a shitting penny! Bollocks!” She collapsed upon the floor and started snoring again.
Both Lily and Maude were impressed: “Tom, you should have said that your wife was a 'Live Passer' – that's fantastic news.” Maude added with a sarcastic grin on her face. Lily just laughed out loud and said that real living passer's were quite rare.
“Well, she certainly saw us [unable to translate] even pissed.” Mused Larde, trying to drag Max from his back, where he was attempting to hide.
“The Boss wants you back; he has a mission for you.” Ass-Bucket spoke, studying the various old photographs that adorned Madame Encarta's living room which was full of dead people.
Maude peered over Ass-bucket's shoulder and frowned, “Tom, does your lovely wife have any connections with the theatre?” and pointed to a large black & white print upon the wall.
“Well, when she was young, she was quite a drama queen, apart from that, no.”
I studied the picture with Maude; it was a Victorian photograph of some old theatre's stage with the cast assembled. “Its looks like 'Romeo and Juliet' by the costumes and stage setting, probably the 1880's or 1900's.” added Maude.
 |
| "Maude: Please God, tell him to bog off!!" |
Ass-Bucket pointed to picture and with some real surprise in his voice, said simply: “Unless I'm mistaken Miss Maude, that's you at the front!”
“Bugger me!” Exclaimed Larde, “He's frigging [unable to translate] it's our Maude! And unless I've gone insane, isn’t [unable to translate] standing by the curtain, flipping you, Tom!”
“How the feck did I get in the damn picture?” I was now completely confused, How did I appear in a picture some seventy years before I was even born? Why did my crazy old wife keep it on her wall? It also means I was there when Shit-head William murdered poor Maude. This death lark can be frigging confusing sometimes....
“Well, if Tom and you were there, how come you two didn't recognise each other when you met in the afterlife?” A voice from the back of the room added. We looked around in surprise – it was Big Boy Frank! Stepping from the elevator which had appeared next to the inert figure of Madame Encarta.
Strangely enough, the Floor Indicator was showing 'Warning! The Madhouse!'
He was greeted with smiles and handshakes by everyone – except Ass-Bucket who stood in the corner with a fixed smile upon his face. “Soon as I heard you had disappeared, I assigned myself the case, and bingo!”
Big Boy Frank was beaming with self- congratulation, then he spotted Ass-Bucket, and his smile disappeared, he quickly pulled a clear plastic bag of water from his pocket and tossed it up and down, eyeing Ass-Bucket. “Well, a 'Soul-Sucker', I can deal with that.”
Big Boy Frank nodded, “Well, if that's the case – I have nothing outstanding on him.” He replaced the deadly bag of water back in his pocket.
Ass-Bucket simply nodded at me and smiled - he tossed a coin and was gone.
"G-Men carry small bags of water, which are no bigger than
Table-tennis balls, to deal with 'Soul-Sucker's, vampires,
werewolves, zombies, malevolent spirits and any other evil dead
buggers!
The water comes from Big G's own garden pond and is frigging powerful stuff – it's the ultimate weapon in the afterlife."
Tom.
The water comes from Big G's own garden pond and is frigging powerful stuff – it's the ultimate weapon in the afterlife."
Tom.
With Ass-Bucket gone, we could all relax. “Frank really has a point there, why didn't you two recognise each other?” Lily was clearly intrigued and was studying the picture again.
“Wait a minute!” Exclaimed Maude with real excitement in her voice, “There was another man there when the picture was taken, he wasn't part of the company, and he was a....he was a.....” She repeated herself, thinking hard, and pacing the floor with deliberation.
Then Maude looked straight at me. “You had short hair then, and a moustache, you were a Police Officer, a plain clothes Police Officer!”
“Oh yes,
that’s definitely a compliment I would have to agree with!”
The Ghost Writer.
The Ghost Writer.
“I definitely think it's me.” I said quietly, and everyone nodded, except Max, who had appeared from behind the sofa, now that Ass-Bucket had gone, and said “Who the hell is William?”
We ignored him totally and then another voice joined the conversation.
“Who the f**k had the f*****g cheek to summon me?, I don't want to come running when some f*****g 'Lifer' b*****d calls me, I AM THE KING! You arse licking dogs!”
For once, we were all speechless – it was a Medieval Knight!!
And boy was he pissed off!
No. 20 OF A 'SKELETON'S LIFE SERIES:
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| "TILL DEATH DO US PART? - YOUR JOKING RIGHT!" |
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| FORWARD TO EPISODE 21. "KING HENRY V & OTHERS." |
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| RETURN TO EPISODE 19. "BLITHE SPIRITS." |
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| "THE GHOST WRITER." |