Once again, I was late for…

# Summary

The protagonist recounts being late for their own funeral twice due to an incorrect death pronouncement and an actual car accident.

# Abstract

In a reflective and humorous narrative, the protagonist describes their unique situation of being declared dead prematurely during an ICU stay, only to wake up in the morgue, and then again after a fatal car accident. Despite their best efforts to communicate with the mourners at their funeral, they are unable to be seen or heard. The story concludes with the protagonist's realization that they are truly dead as they witness their own well-presented corpse in the casket.

# Opinions

- The protagonist regards the initial misdiagnosis of their death as a fluke and the doctors as incompetent ("Those idiots").
- They express a sense of loss over the missed funeral and financial deposits, indicating a touch of irony and humor in the situation.
- The protagonist's description of their car and love for driving suggests a passion for life's simple pleasures.
- There is a sense of frustration and helplessness at being ignored by the living, despite their attempts to interact.
- The protagonist acknowledges personal responsibility for the car accident, indicating an understanding that their own actions contributed to the situation.
- The narrative conveys a mix of disbelief and resignation upon discovering their own body in the casket, underscored by the realization that their attempts to communicate are futile.

(A writing prompt)

…my own funeral. Yes, mine. Yes, again. The first time was a fluke. Not me being late, but me being dead.

Let me explain.

Ya see I had been in the ICU for three weeks. I had been given last rites on day two. Took me a long time to die. Those idiots couldn’t find a heartbeat and pronounced me dead at 12:14 pm.

The only problem with that was that my heart rate was really low because of the infection and fever coursing through my body. Imagine the poor doc’s face when I came to in the morgue. So, I never made it to my funeral. A lot of lost deposits that day.

But this time was different though.

I was zipping along in my little blue Ford Mustang. I had the top down. It wasn’t like it was nice out or anything. Driving was my thing. That’s how I relaxed. A long winding road, my mind not 100% on my driving, a very deep curve, and…over the guard rail I went. That’s the last thing I remember.

Since then, I’ve been wandering around trying to figure out what the hell is going on. I see friends and family huddle in small groups whispering and crying. Flowers that would be any florist green with envy. And food? My God, who’s feeding what army around here?

No one will listen to me. I jump up and down. Talk loudly. Hell, I even scream. I hit people. Shove them. And nothing. No response whatsoever. If they’re trying to punish me for driving like an idiot — okay I get it. I should have been going slower. I should have been paying attention. But look at me. I’m fine.

Aren’t I?

Suddenly, everyone was staring at me. FINALLY. As I open my mouth to speak, everyone has a seat. I don’t recognize the room we’re in.

Just then a man in a suit and tie walked right through me and kept going. He stopped at the front of the room and turned around to face the crowd. He then began giving my eulogy.

The whole time I keep saying, “No, this is a mistake! Listen to me!” but no one does. I see the open casket behind the suited man. I figure if I walk up there and show them that it’s empty maybe they will snap out of it. I walk past the suited man and peer inside. If I hadn’t already been dead, I would have no doubt fainted.

It was me lying in the box looking better than I had ever looked alive.

Just then I let out a scream that shook the walls of hell, but no one heard.

Once Again, I was Late for…

(A writing prompt)