A Funny Thing Happened On The Way To...

As Charon pushed his oar through the water I started to wonder.

“Say, good man! How long have you been doing this?”

He shook his head dismissively and continued his toil.

“I'm pretty sure it was the 21st Century when I died. Why are you still here?”

This time he ignored me completely.

“Well, judging by the angle of your spine and number of grooves in your skin you've been here a little while, eh? Do you carry everyone to their destination? Or is it that you are here for overflow?”

He wrinkled his brow a little but continued to push us along slowly.

What I wondered was this: my chest was missing a vital part of its anatomy – the part called the chest. Now, this was obviously from my death, which I could not remember for the life of me – or rather, for the death of me.

“I don't suppose you ferried the King of Rock? That would have been a funny sight.”

There was still no response from the riverman, so I decided to try a different approach.

“If the truth of the matter is that you are carried to rest, or possibly eternal tickling while tied to a bed of nails, you are as you were when you died, then it would follow that if we were to go back the way we came and I somehow managed to climb back up those slippery slopes I would be born again in a suit, correct?”

Still no response.

“And following that line of logic to a different fork in the road: assuming there is a  reason for my appearance being what it was at the time of my death, it is possible that my fate would lie in the hands of my sense of fashion. For instance, it is possible a clown having died in a freak cream pie accident would be tortured by being aquatically assaulted by trick pocket ornaments for eternity due to the fact of his clothing alone. Or another example, should an unfortunate series of events lead to the death of a male model by means of a mink scarf and high heeled shoes, he could possibly be treated to an infinity of close-order drilling in an oven.”

For that I got a frown from the boatswain followed by continuation of his labour.

“It is also possible that punishment is proportionate to the sin for which you have been sent here. Let us take an extreme case: Hitler. For his actions I would sentence him to endless threading of sewing needles using only his toes. Or another more common case: an everyday thief. I would give him, or her, the duty of  watching Hitler without helping him.”

Still no response.

“Maybe Hades has more of an ear for intelligent humour.”

Charon coughed out a laugh.

Word Count: 481