"THE GRAVEYARD CHRONICLES!": EPISODE 5: 'Death Invites You To A Party!"

"PARTY TIME WITH MR. DEATH!"

"Tom and his friends have set out to find the Angel In Charge, who may help prevent the cemetery residents from coming to a sticky end under road tarmac - if the evil local council get their wicked way – they give us ‘Lifer’s’ a bad name!

But then, an invitation from MR. Death arrives………"

The Ghost Writer.

5: “DEATH INVITES YOU TO A PARTY!”

Well, what can I say? I've met 'himself' - No, not 'Big G' - but the little Devil that buggers up everyone's life - Death!

Or MR. Death as you would call him after spending an evening at his 'crib', enjoying his famous hospitality and congenial company. I had received the invitation from a very disturbing looking individual, just as I led my intrepid group of adventurers through the cemetery gates - Even Mog took just one look and declared he had laundry to do and disappeared so fast that he left his hat in mid air.

The rest of the group stood in silence - except Max, who lay on the ground in silence - he had fainted. Larde was trying to help him up and riffle through his pockets at the same time, so failing on both counts, he dropped Max back where he had found him and took a swig from his can instead.

The figure that confronted us was a living skeleton, with deep red eyes and yellow teeth, dressed in black with a Top Hat perched upon his boney skull and worse, he had a bright yellow 'Tank-Top' beneath the dark robe, and he was riding a bicycle!

"For some readers born after the 1970's, they may have to research 'Tank-Tops'......"

Tom.

Then, with its boney hand extended from the handlebars, it pushed a thigh bone into my shaking hands - it appeared to have writing drawn upon it. Wide eyed, I examined the dreadful invitation card, then realised it was made of plaster!

It spoke: "Good day Mate, special delivery from the Boss, it's an invite for you and your mates to join himself for a little get-together, just hold onto the bone and say his name three times and bingo, you'll be there in a flash - quicker that a five legged dingo with its arse alight, looking for a billabong!" It grinned, winked and gave a little wave, then with just a couple of wheel spins - was gone.

"REG - LEADER OF THE NAUGHTY BOY'S BIKER GANG!"

"My God!" Maude shook her head in disbelief, "I never thought I would encounter one of those!"

Larde spoke up: "What the bleeding [unable to translate] they went out of fashion bloody [unable to translate] the silly bugger!

"What was it?" I asked Maude and she explained quietly, as if someone could be eavesdropping: "That's a member of the notorious 'Naughty Boy's Biker Gang', a sort of cycling Brotherhood run by MR. Death, they terrorise the afterlife Domains, they're into violence, curry powder, speeding, drinking and Morris Dancing - I've heard that grown men faint when they hear the jingle of their bells, the slap of the sticks together and of course, that awful dancing - They really do give the dead a bad name...."

"YOU BLOODY LIFER'S HAVE A LOT TO ANSWER FOR!"

"Coke, crack, heroin, uppers and downers do nothing for 'deadies' – but sniff madras or vindaloo curry power and WOW!!

It will make the average deceased person run about like a headless chicken, see colours and rather strangely, start singing songs from 'The Beatles' back catalogue......."

Tom.

So, the creature had been wearing his 'Gang Colours' - a bright, black top hat, yellow tank top and of course, Morris Dancer's leggings - complete with little bells and ribbons - a truly ghastly sight! Little wonder they struck fear and horror into the hearts and minds of good dead people everywhere.

It had a really strong Australian accent and upon the ground where it had stood, lay a couple of empty, crushed cans of 'Foster's Lager' - Oh, and a crumpled photo of 'Skippy the Kangaroo' with an autograph at the base - it read: 'To Reg, have a beaut of a day fella, love Skippy' - and a paw print.

We heard the jingle of little bells and fearfully, knew the creature was back! Suddenly, with wheels spinning and raising his Top-hat in salute, he appeared again. He slowly pulled the picture from my fingers and smiled: "Thank you mate, I forgot to say that his name is MR. Death." he pushed the photo back under his gaudy Tank-top and added "Big fan of that bloody 'roo, he was the best, wasn't he!"

Again, he was gone in a swirl of dust, screeching wheels and the tinkle of bells - But the lager tins remained, and Larde was seeing if they still had some contents - He was disappointed and so threw them at Max, who Maude was helping to his feet.

"What does the bone say?" Maude asked, dusting Max down, and for someone who had been dead for nearly two thousand years, he actually didn't look well - he stared at the plaster bone grasped in my hand and resumed his position upon the ground.

Maude, placing her arms on her hips, tossed her head, the beautiful red hair falling about her pale face in a state of wonderful confusion...... Ouch! Sorry about that reader, Maude just bounced a stone off my 'pathetic' head.......and repeated her question, whilst Larde was attempting to raise Max for a second time.

I won't translate what he was saying, I'll leave that to your imagination, but two words were unmistakable: 'Twat' and 'Shithead' - and I don't think they were a firm of Lawyers - well, they might be...........

I turned the bone around slowly in my hands and read it out loud:

"Tom and friends please come to my party tonight, you'll be most welcome and I'm sure that you will have a great time, the resident band is ABBA, the emcee is the 'BIG L' and catering is provided by my old friend Dr. Harold 'What's your poison?' Shipman - see you there - R.I.P."

"R.I.P. doesn't mean what you’re thinking - it's short for Reply In Person!"

Tom.

"ABBA - MR. DEATH'S FAVOURITE GROUP, LOOKING LIKE UNEMPLOYED SUPERHERO'S!"

"I didn't know ABBA was dead!" I said amazed, but it turned out they were not, they just liked playing together for their old pal, MR. Death - explains a lot about them, I believe!

"Well, it's not every day that DEATH INVITES YOU TO A PARTY!" Exclaimed Max with a dumb grin, "I could say I'm in fancy dress." He mused, scratching his chin and looking himself up and down.

Maude looked a little troubled and said quietly "Why would such an important person in the afterlife, want us at his party, I mean, we not exactly royalty or movie stars are we?"

"I don't know Maude, but I suppose it won't hurt to detour from the mission for a little while and maybe we'll find out why." I said, and then all heads turned to the cemetery gates as the sound of barking drifted to us.

"Norman!" Both Maude and I shouted with delight - the team was now complete, and we had both a mission and a party to attend.

"Sorry for the interruption of service there, the 'Deadnet' was down for some time, it transpires that the connection was severed in the Dark Domain (that's the place where all the really weird people are dumped, you know, like Zombies, Vampires, Lawyers and Methodist Ministers, etc)

Apparently a couple of zombies were having a picnic near the cable, and one of the silly buggers thought it was he's sleeping friends leg, and sank his teeth into it!"

Tom.

“I understand that our ‘www’ connects with the ‘deadnet’ somewhere in Belgium, probably because there’s little difference between there and the afterlife!”

The Ghost Writer.

With Norman under one arm, and the thigh bone under the other, we formed a circle - Max was quite reluctant, but Larde sorted that one out - I'm sure the swelling in his testicles will subside before we reach the party - with hands linked we shouted: "MR. Death! MR. Death! MR. Death!"

For some strange reason, we ended up at an OAP's bingo session in Scarborough, so we had to re-think our travel arrangements - after Maude had won £10 by having a complete line on her card, but was disappointed because the ‘Lifer's’ couldn't see her to pay out and Larde had caused a slight disturbance by eating some poor old lady's crayons, the sight of them disappearing into thin air had given a couple of pensioners a nasty turn, and then they started fighting, blaming each other.

"SOME BASTARD STOLE MY CRAYON!"

It took three Door-men to separate the pair of old ladies, and they were thrown into the street, followed by their wheel-chairs...

One gained a little revenge by throwing her walking frame through the window.

We attempted it again in the car park of the Mecca Bingo Hall, this time with all hands on the thigh bone.

Again we shouted: "MR. Death! MR. Death! MR. Death!"

To say the place was packed is an understatement, we found ourselves at the doors of a beautiful, sun bathed, Chateau somewhere in the south of France, amongst a throng of dead people, dressed up in their best grave clothes and singing various ABBA songs, as the sound of "Dancing Queen" poured from the interior of the grand building - Pushing our way through the jovial crowd, Maude thought for a minute that she had spotted her mother, but it turned out to be Oscar Wilde in drag.

What is this thing Maude has about Irish Playwrights?

Oscar was the perfect gentleman about the case of mistaken identity and Maude complemented him on his backless gown and heels, but he clearly took a shine to Max, who he invited back to his home for a game of 'Pillow – Biting’, which Max politely declined, saying "Excuse me, but I think I've left the toaster on......" and ran like hell - apparently, they had that game in Ancient Rome too.

Oscar sighed and recounted "If you’re not too long, I'll wait here for you all my life." Then realizing he was still dead, altered the end bit to 'death' - Yes, he was one of the greats!

"OSCAR WILDE - NOT IN DRAG!"

Saying our goodbyes, we continued on and after finding Max hidden behind a large statue of two naked women holding shovels, sitting on the back of a well endowed, male Centaur who was reading a newspaper - The French really have a talent for sculpture and art!

We reached the door-men, and were a little surprised to find King George V, Rasputin and Buster Keaton manning the doors...

I showed Buster the thigh bone and said "We're expected..." I didn't finish the sentence because I was pushed aside by Napoleon Bonaparte, who threw a punch at Buster and with some anger in his voice, was shouting “I am the bloody Emperor! You English filth! How dare you say I'm not on the list?" But was grabbed by Rasputin, who held his arm's whilst King George V punched him in the knackers - that brought tears to his eyes and he staggered away to rethink his position in the afterlife.

Buster dusted himself down, smiled at me and picked up his clipboard, "Ah, Tom and friends, you are on the list, here's your wrist bands, please enjoy yourselves!"

What a professional!

I was impressed with MR. Death’s operation so far and we placed the rainbow coloured wristbands on and joined the party - Outside, there was another disagreement with Napoleon, and we saw that he was now rolling about on the gravel, getting a good kicking from Buster and Rasputin to the tune of "Waterloo", which was playing inside.

I had to fetch Norman back, he had sunk his teeth into Napoleon's arse, whilst King George V exclaimed with delight "Good boy! That French git was always afraid of the Scot's!" I managed to free Norman from the Emperor's rear and re-join the party, I had suspected for some time now, that Norman didn't really appreciate the French - ever since that stuck up poodle that lived down our street, had spurned his advances and he had to shag his basket blanket - yet again.

If the outside was impressive, the interior was simply magnificent, all marble, gold leaf, paintings, statues and full bars - even the toilets were on the grand scale, marked as: 'Ladies', 'Gentlemen' and 'Unknown', yes, MR. Death knows how to treat his guests!

ABBA was just finishing their spot on stage - playing "The Winner Takes It All." which is MR. Death’s favourite tune apart from "My Way."

Larde was already at the bar, drinking a mix of 'Special Brew', whisky and toilet duck, it was a 'road person's' special cocktail: called "Drunk or dead - does it matter?" served in an old baked bean tin, with a straw and a pickled onion, the height of sophistication for people, whose idea of luxury is a clean plastic bag to shit in...

"Apparently the favourite bags for such people are from 'Tesco's', according to Larde and if you have aspirations to be a really posh vagrant, then it has to be 'Marks & Spencer’s' – preferably the thick one's with good handles, I'll leave the rest to your imagination...."

Tom.

Max was drinking simple red wine and struggling to strike up a conversation with a couple of nice young ladies sitting on the bar stools next to him - his opening line of "Hi, I'm Max, I was eaten by a lion - but I don't hold that against him...." wasn't having much luck and he was now trying: "Hello, I'm THE Max, you know the one, eaten by a lion, but I don't hate the big furry bugger - Hell!, If I was a lion, I'd eat ME!"

"WINSTON - HE REALLY LIKES MAX!"

The fact that both girls walked away after tipping their drinks over his head made no difference to Max, he wiped his face with a bar-towel and tried the big, blond haired lady sitting opposite. I don't know what he said, but she smiled at him, then broke the bar stool over his surprised head, what he said must have been a cracker, because she also kicked him while he was on the floor - twice.

Maude and I had just received our drinks, a whisky and ginger ale for me and triple vodka for her - neat.

Norman was being fussed over by several guests, who insisted the barman fill a bowl with water for the little fella and were feeding him various snacks - and all laughed when he pissed over Max, who was still curled up on the floor - Norman was certainly having a great night!

Then I recognized the barman - it was the 'Rabid Rabbi!' - "I often work for MR. Death - it beats sitting around in that dead shit-hole of a cemetery - and the hours are good." He explained whilst wiping the bar down and refilling the peanut holders. He pointed out Rudolph Valentino to us, the great actor was dancing with Ginger Rogers and added "He's been warned, you wait until Fred spots them!" and laughed out loud.

The Rabbi seemed a completely different person here, both Maude and I was amazed at the difference in him, then we heard the disturbance behind us, Fred Astaire was trying to throttle Valentino, whilst Ginger attempted to pull them apart.

Then, our host joined us - MR. Death.

"MR. DEATH - LIVE SEX ON DEAD LEGS ACCORDING TO MAUDE!"

He looked fantastic in a cool, sky blue 'Armani' suit, an open necked, white silk shirt and black leather shoes, a loose gold 'Rolex' watch hung from his wrist - he bore a strong resemblance to George Clooney!

Maude was impressed, I could tell, she gave him a wonderful big smile, her ample breasts moving up and down in excitement, he eyes really wide and intense, she gave a cute little curtsey, and I knew she fancied him because she didn't throw any stones off his head.....

"Bloody hell!” that's live sex on dead legs!" She whispered.

I smiled and said "Good evening MR. Death, I'm Tom and this obvious slut is Maude." The look from her could have set water on fire, "Just joking! Maude likes it when I kid around." I added from sheer fear of a couple bricks bounced off my offending head at some stage of the evening.

"Ah, hello Tom, glad you could come, and welcome Miss Maude, I did see you on the stage in Birmingham back in 1880, you played a wonderful 'Juliet' - you died with such grace on stage!"

Maude’s face had a strange look on it, she glanced at me, unsmiling, and said:
“That’s the night William shot me! Right after that very performance.”

Max attempted to join us, but two of MR. Death’s bodyguards prevented him by grabbing his throat and throwing him across the nearest table, I was a little surprised to find that MR. Death’s two main boys were Stan Laurel and Oliver Hardy - my word! Death had changed them, they had tattoos and body piercings, with a real reputation for unnecessary violence, but they still laughed frequently - especially when breaking peoples arms and legs.

Ollie smirked "That's another fine mess that arse-hole got himself in!"

Stan was smiling, rubbing a hand over his knuckle-dusters; “Maybe a little re-arrangement of his face would teach him some respect."

Then both laughed, as if at some secret joke that had been whispered between the two - or they were both psychopath's!

"THE BOYS - BEFORE MR. DEATH GOT TO THEM!"

MR. Death just waved his hand and spoke softly, "Boy's, easy now, that's a friend of this young lady and my friend Tom here!" When he said 'friend' I felt someone had not just walked on my grave, but dug me up and gave me a good kicking.

He smiled at us and added "I'm really quite nice when you get to know me, nothing like my reputation the 'lifer's' have of me!" He indicated to his private table, "Please join me!"

I had a feeling that was an offer I really couldn't refuse; I think it would be my head in the bed, not some bloody horse, if one turned down our jovial host. So I smiled and said: "Great, thank you MR. Death, after you Maude."

No.5 OF 'A SKELETON'S LIFE SERIES:

"NOW YOU KNOW WHY SKELETONS GRIN ALL THE TIME!"

FORWARD TO SPISODE 6. "PARTY TALK."

RETURN TO EPISODE 4. "GRAVEYARD GOSSIP."

"THE GHOST WRITER!"