An Itinerant Mind

Ponsonby gave me a look

I sat up feeling much better than I had any right to, and even when I turned and looked down at my frankly rather ghastly expression, I merely thought how that would have turned my stomach, had I still been alive.

I confess that I felt no surprise that I was dead. After all I had just killed myself. But, I was somewhat taken unawares to find myself still here. Or at least my soul seemed to be. Or was I a ghost now? How does one tell the difference?

My speculations were interrupted by the entrance of my wife.

"Oh!" She said, looking right through me to my corpse lying on the floor beneath me.

'Oh!' Oh!, is that all? Your husband is dead and all you can muster is 'Oh!'?

"Hello. Well I'm not sure really. It's a bit too late for an ambulance, but I expect I'll need one, and probably the police as well. It's my husband. Yes. He's blown his brains out. Yes, I'm pretty sure that he's dead. There isn't a lot of his cranium left, that's why."

I listened as she dutifully gave her details, name and address that sort of thing. Then she went to the kitchen and filled the kettle and switched it on. To say I was dumbfounded is an understatement, how could she be so calm?

The police arrived, together with no less than three ambulances, which was overkill in my opinion, though no one was interested in my opinion. Probably because they couldn't hear it.

Ponsonby came in and gave me a look.

I remember reading somewhere that cats can see ghosts, and it did seem to be true. The strange thing is, I could have sworn his look said "Oh the can opener is broken, that's a shame." Then he meowed meaningfully at my wife, who'd just finished making everyone hot drinks. She patted him fondly and reached for a sachet of cat food.

Ponsonby gave me rather a smug look and settled down to enjoy his dinner.