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Author's note: part two of this story

In a relatively short time, i had manged to see recreations of several of the wonders of the world, made by their original architects, and several creations of the makers of what few wonders had not been remade in the afterlife. After sightseeing, I'd come across a former priest, who'd told me a bad and very crude joke that seemed to have something to do with Jesus being sodomised, and put "Roger" as everyone arund us called him, in stitches. I mostly just felt sick, as the man went into much more detail than I really needed. I also had the pleasure of being punched in the eye by an Egyptian pharoa I'd never heard of.

It was while i was sitting on a bench along the street cursing the former god-king's name, family and former empire that my companion got up and told me it was time to go. "Go where? Madenthodip over there just punched me in my ******** eye!"

"That's not his name."

"Yeah, well i can't pronounce his god damn name, and you wouldn't stop laughing when i resorted to calling him Jackass, the Egyptian," he stifled a giggle, resulting an a smirk and a small snort of laughter, "and my eye still ******** hurts. what the ******** was in his ring, it feels like someone hit a golfball in my eye."

"I think it was a sapphire. Or maybe aquamarine. Either way it's about the size of a cat's brain. He has the gaudiest tastes."

"Or maybe he just likes to use it when he punches people in their god damn eye!"

"In his defense, you did turn."

"He was gonna punch me in my other eye!"

He shrugged, "Look, if you stop thinking about it, it'll stop hurting. Remember all that stuff I was telling you about the power of the spirit? It just hurts out of habit."

"No, it hurts because he punched me. I don't have a habit of getting punched in the ******** eye. In fact, Never in my life was I ever punched straight in the ******** eye, with a ring the size of a god damn cat's brain. I would remember if I had made something like that a habit."

"I'll make you a deal, you shut up and stop bitching, and if it bruises you can punch me in the eye."

I looked at him, "If it bruises? It was the size of a cat's brain! I'm lucky my cornea's still curving out. Of course I'm getting a black eye out of this."

"Well if you're so sure, you just get a free shot on me once we can see it. For now, I'm running late for my next appointment. Let's go," he put his hand on my shoulder, and with ease surprizing for his size, hoisted me up to my feet. He put his arm around my shoulders and turned me bodily to look down the street, and suddenly the buildings had changed. The horizon was less fuzzy and looked more like it was there, instead of just looking like it was supposed to be there.

"What just..."

"I don't make appointments for dead people, my buisness is with the dying. And the only place where people die is the world where they live. In short, welcome back to the land of the living."

"I'm...?" I patted my chest, as if to check something, but it hadn't felt any different the whole time i'd been dead, so I stopped quickly.

"Oh, no, you're still dead, but now everyone around you isn't. Come on, we've only got a little bit, or we'll be late."

"I didn't know you could be late. Don't people traditionally die when it's their time?"

"Yes, and if I'm not there when they die, it means I'm late," he said to me over his shoulder. "So shut up and come on."

I sighed and did as I was told. We walked down to the corner of the block and waited at the crosswalk while the light was red. I had no idea why we were waiting, since we weren't exactly going to impede traffic, but I was just being Death's shadow, so I wasn't going to ask. As the traffic light changed, I stepped from the cement to the asphalt, but felt his hand on my shoulder as soon as I did.

"Stay here," he said, as I watched a car fly past me, running the light. At the same time, another car came down the other street, apparently not seeing the sportscar that had to be going around 60. They hit in the middle of the intersection. As their fenders mashed themselves together, the front wheels of the blue wagon that'd been hit were lifted off the street, and I could see the man in the sportscar hit his windsheild, and I thought I saw blood just before the shower of glass the erupted from the crash.

The whole thing seemed to happen in slow motion os Roger calmly walked straight toward the coliding vehichles. They both stopped, steam rising from the mangled engines and a few last pieces of glass falling from the cars. A woman next to me who'd seen the crash ran toward it, and opened the door of the closest car. The one that had ran the light. Roger's hand and hers made the same motion, grabbing the handle and pulling the door open. They looked like one person as they leaned in and pulled the man inside out of his seat, but while the woman heaved him out and laid him down on the road to try to recussitate, Roger dragged him closer to the corner of the intersection before letting him go.

He dusted off the man's shirt while he groaned and held a hand up to his head, "That was a nasty crash," the white haired boy said, matter-of-factly. "Messed up your car something aweful. Doubt it'll be on the road again."

"Oh ********," the man said as he regained his senses, "Oh no! The guy I hit!"

"He'll be fine," Roger said calmly.

"He's not moving!" it was the woman who'd dragged the dead man from his car. For someone who'd just beein in a wreck like the one before me, the man jumped to his feet very quickly as he heard her scream.

"He doesn't sound fine," the man said, as he walked toward the woman and the body. Roger was right on his heels.

"Oh, that's not him. That's you." I could see the man's jaw drop from where I was as he looked down at his own still form. He turned to Roger, with his mouth still wide, "That's the guy you hit," he pointed toward the driver's side of the other car, where some other bystanders had helped the man out of his car, to stand shakily on his feet.

"Oh my god..." obviously the man was in shock, as he took in the crash, his body, and finally the boy who was telling him that he was dead. "You're..."

"Death," the same ear to ear smile he'd given me. This boy took far too much pride in his work. "C'mon, hell's awaitin'." The man hadn't stopped looking shocked since he'd seen his own corpse, but somehow at the suggestion of eternal damnation, his eyes got even wider.

"It's a joke," I shouted at him, "A bad one."

He looked at me, then at death, "Lets call him my sidekick. He died earlier today, maybe you can console each other or something while we go to the afterlife." The boy crossed his arms and looked around with a confused look on his face, "There a train station near here?"

"No, why?"

"Damn, gonna have to do this the hard way," he sighed as he turned, and beconed us both with one hand over his shoulder to follow.